


Hell's Kitchen

by heretherebemonsters



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Bloodplay, Demons, Demons Are Assholes, Drama, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae & Fairies, Fallen Angels, Gore, Hell, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Sexual Content, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Violence, Were-Creatures, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heretherebemonsters/pseuds/heretherebemonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claude Faustus is still trying to adjust to life on Earth even after millenniums spent among mortals. He'd always been able to escape to Hell for a few decades whenever he needed a break but now that the gates to Hell have been permanently sealed, he and every other demon unfortunate enough to have been on the mortal plane at the time have been trapped on Earth. </p><p>When Claude meets Sebastian Michaelis he thinks that maybe being stuck on Earth isn't so terrible. But Claude's hopes for an uneventful future are dashed when other demons start turning up dead. Who is behind the killings and what do they want? And what secret is Sebastian keeping?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing you recognize, only the OC's who appear throughout as supporting characters or plot devices. 
> 
> This story was literally inspired by a restaurant I went to called Hell's Kitchen. I intend no copyright infringement of any kind and only meant to use this place as a setting for the story.

The marquee outside the building was unmistakable. Several rows of old fashioned white lights, the ones where the filament could be seen inside the crystal clear bulb, flashed in alternating patterns below the words written in blood red neon: Hell's Kitchen. It was a stylish logo done in spiky letters that faded out at the ends into something that vaguely resembled black bats.

Claude Faustus paused for a moment to take it in. The sign was the most eye catching one along the entirety of Ninth Street, on either side, and that was saying something considering this strip was chock full of edgy restaurants, up and coming bars and grungy nightclubs. The aesthetic of the sign appealed to the adventurous, the curious and the morbid alike. Claude happened to be none of those, not tonight anyway. He was only here because Hannah had somehow managed to badger him into it.

Claude grudgingly admitted to himself that he kind of liked the marquee, though. Something about it spoke to his demonic nature, inviting him in on an instinctual level, despite how his conscious mind railed against it.

Hannah had just gotten a job as a waitress at Hell's Kitchen a few weeks ago. By all accounts, things were going well for her and she seemed to be enjoying her work immensely. This was no small thing. Hannah was an old demon, granted not as old as Claude himself was, but she was easily jaded with the human world. For her to be enjoying something so mundane as a waitressing job seemed impossible to Claude, who had known Hannah for the last few centuries at least and knew what she was like. But there was that light again in her swirling blue eyes, a light that Claude had only known in Hannah when she was under contract with a human and eagerly anticipating a soul at the end of her ordeal.

When Claude had grown curious about Hannah's new job she had explained that Hell's Kitchen was no ordinary dining establishment. It was literally an underground restaurant, situated in the basement of one of the taller buildings along Ninth. The atmosphere and décor followed a dark theme just as its name would suggest. It was almost like being back in hell, Hannah had told him gleefully. But by far the best part was that all the staff members were supernaturals like she and Claude.

Claude had admitted he was intrigued by the sound of the place and Hannah had proceeded to pester him incessantly over the next few weeks to come check it out. Stop in and have a drink, she'd told him. The bartenders were excellent, some of the best in the city. Observe the clientele. Take it in and reminisce a bit about home.

Now it was Friday night and Claude had found himself sitting aimlessly in the loft apartment he shared with Hannah, alone and feeling restless. Making his mind up, he'd texted Hannah to tell her he was stopping by in an hour or so and had gotten in the shower before he could change his mind. When he'd stepped out, dripping wet with a towel around his waist, he saw that she'd messaged back with Great! Look for me out on the floor :) Claude shook his head at her use of a smiley emoticon, tossed his iPhone on the bed and gone to get dressed.

It had been a fifteen minute walk from the Warehouse District in the brisk December air but now Claude was at the front doors of Hell's Kitchen. He took one last appreciative look at the marquee and headed inside.

There was a wide hallway just inside the doors and Claude realized this was actually part of downtown's skyway system. The skyways ran all over downtown, miles upon miles of them, connecting all the large skyscrapers and other office buildings and entertainment venues. Humans loved the skyways, seeing as they were heated in the winter and air conditioned in the summer, passing over the busy streets below while hundreds of ground level entrances and exits allowed easy access. Claude enjoyed strolling them, taking in the ironic reality that they were almost like a tiny city within the bigger one outside. The skyway corridors were punctuated with spacious courtyards here and there and lined with all manner of businesses. The owner of Hell's Kitchen had procured a prime location just near a major entrance to the skyway system, catching foot traffic from the skyway itself as well as the street outside.

Claude could see the establishment's entrance just ahead, marked with that same distinctive logo. A tall, narrow sign to the right of the wide doorway proclaimed in black letters that The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Claude smirked; he knew the unending truth of that little statement through and through.

Immediately inside the doorway, stairs led down. The restaurant was indeed below street level, just as Hannah had said. Claude headed down at an easy pace, letting his long fingers glide along the antiqued brass railing. He got the sense of the air growing darker around him as he descended. The lighting was much more dim than that he just left behind in the skyway and the walls were painted a deep rich burgundy shade but Claude knew it was more than that. As a demon, he was a creature born of shadows and darkness, forever tied to the earth, and as such he knew immediately when he actually passed below street level and was underground. The transition was so noticeable that he found himself wondering once again how other creatures, even humans, couldn't feel it. Perhaps the more spiritual of their race could, the same ones who saw him in a crowd and instinctually knew that he wasn't of their race.

That instinct hadn't prevented him from luring more than a few of them to their destruction.

Claude took a deep breath as he reached the foot of the stairs, smelling the dank earth pressing close against the outer walls of the restaurant. It was a familiar smell, a comforting one, and Claude savored it. It had been far too long since he had been below ground.

Down here, the walls were all the same burgundy shade and the wall-mounted lights were a brighter shade of red. The overhead lights were brighter to make up for it, shining down out of small chandeliers cleverly crafted out of old cutlery, giving them a slightly menacing edge. To the left stretched a long winding hallway leading to the elevators, if the sign was to be believed, lined with seating areas and hung with a wide variety of intricate antique frames showing off starred reviews from newspapers and magazines. The chairs and couches were all of dark leather and velvet and some appeared old. Claude noted the cow skull on the wall with a tiny smile. It reminded him of the days when humans still widely practiced the old rituals, dancing around bonfires and sacrificing animals such as cows.

“Hello! How can we help you, sir?” A cheerful voice broke into Claude's reverie and he turned to see a young woman at the front desk, wearing a black t-shirt emblazoned with the now familiar logo over her left breast. Long brown hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail and aside from her nearly sickly pale complexion, there was nothing remarkable about her. Claude was feeling the beginnings of a twinge of disappointment when he caught a whiff of something interesting on the air. A faint scent of lilies permeated with a stale smell that Claude could only describe as undead. The innocent-looking friendly girl behind the desk was a vampire, no doubt about it. Vampires were the only creatures that carried that stale stench on them; once one caught a whiff of it one never quite forgot it.

At the same time that Claude was deducing this, he saw that the girl's nostrils had flared and he knew she had caught scent of him as well. Her nondescript brown eyes flashed a deep pearly red, so quickly that anyone but another supernatural would have missed it, and he knew that she had acknowledged him for what he was. Immediately her attitude changed, becoming sultry as she leaned forward on an elbow on her desktop, blatantly eying him from head to toe. Apparently she liked what she saw and she let the tip of her tongue slide out to wet her lips; Claude saw a brief flash of a sharp canine, a sure sign of an interested vampire.

Claude let a tiny smirk curl his lips; it had been a while since he had been looked at thus and knowing this fellow supernatural found him enticing admittedly stroked his vanity a bit. Claude knew he was good-looking by average human standards; he had, after all, crafted his human appearance to be attractive. Never had it served a demon to be ugly. Thick and shiny black hair brushed his collar and framed his handsome face in piecey shorter sections, softening the angles of his cheekbones and square jaw. Alert golden eyes glinted mysteriously behind frameless rectangular glasses that he didn't really need to wear but did anyway out of habits formed nearly a century and a half earlier. His nose was long and straight and his lips full and nearly bloodless against a perfectly smooth and pale complexion. He knew the rest of his body was equally pleasing, all lean definition on a six foot three inch frame with broad shoulders and chest. He had found this physical type to be continually pleasing to a certain human female demographic over the course of his long life, catering to the tastes of those women who liked a well-built man with solid muscles but not the bulk that so appealed to others.

Claude was feeling pleased that his chosen form was once again working in his favor. He moved closer to the front desk to speak with the vampire. Her gaze remained glued to him and the appreciation in her eyes was obvious as she took in his gracefully predatory movements. Claude was not at all adverse to the idea of a quick hookup with this vampire; it was no secret among supernaturals that vamps and demons went together well, their predatory natures complimenting one another. Claude had dallied with vamps before and it had been some of the best sex he'd ever had.

“What are you here for, handsome?” The girl asked, her voice now much lower pitched and inviting.

“Thought I'd drop in for a drink,” Claude answered, watching with amusement as his smooth, deep voice made the vampire practically squirm in delighted arousal.

“The main bar is through there,” she informed him, nodding at the doorway to her left. Claude glanced over his shoulder and saw a spacious room teeming with people beyond, some seated at small tables, others moving about in groups, drinks in hand. “I see,” Claude said, turning back. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The vampire paused and let her eyes trail the length of Claude's body once more. “I'm Alaina, by the way. My shift ends at one, if you're interested.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Claude Faustus.” He introduced himself and let a smirk curl his lips again. “And duly noted.”

Alaina smiled, pleased, and leaned over her desk a tad further. Claude saw her nostrils flaring once more and held still, allowing her to take a deep breath of his scent. He watched in amusement as her eyes flashed that same opaque red again and her lips parted, tongue catching a sharp canine and curling around it. “Mmm, you're an old one, aren't you?” she purred.

“You could say that,” Claude returned, his pride puffing up ever so slightly. In the realm of supernaturals, the oldest of demons were the most highly sought after as mates and sexual partners, offering their significant other a vast and nearly endless pool of energy reserves to tap into when their own began to run low. Vampires were known to thrive on such contact.

“Delicious,” Alaina murmured. “I bet I could drink and drink from your reserves and never make a dent.”

Claude grinned toothily, letting his own set of multiple fangs slide out for her to see. “Perhaps you'll find out.”

Alaina returned his grin. “I will eagerly await your decision.” She tossed Claude a saucy wink as he turned away to head for the main bar. He could feel her eyes on him as he strode away, no doubt ogling his ass.

As soon as he stepped into the large room, his senses were overwhelmed by the permeating stench of humanity. So many humans packed together in one place was bound to be staggering, even a bit shocking, even to a demon as old as Claude. He paused just inside the door, gathering himself before setting out into their midst for the bar. So many emotions to sort through; Claude could smell the myriad of feelings swirling through the throng, from anger to despair to outright joy. Some humans were here to celebrate, others to fight and still others to drown their sorrows in drink. It made Claude want to laugh. The basis of the human race hadn't changed since the dawning of history. Claude remembered well walking into any pub or inn any number of centuries ago and soaking in the exact same mixture on the air. The world changed constantly but it seemed that the people populating it would remain essentially the same.

Claude's senses settled a bit as he set off into the crush of people, elbowing his way toward the bar in the back. As soon the overwhelming quality of the crush of humanity died off, he was able to smell other supernaturals in the room, their distinct individual scents much thinner and harder to detect at first. There was the spicy pine fragrance that belonged only to werewolves; Claude located them quickly, a pair of small but solid-looking women stationed watchfully near where he'd come in. They each wore the same shirt Alaina had been wearing with jeans and heavy boots that Claude was sure were steel toed. Bouncers, then. Claude had to smile at the fact that such seemingly harmless females were responsible for the security of the establishment but he knew from the way they held themselves and a certain tanginess to their scent that they were both powerful weres, likely high ranking in the local pack. They exuded intimidation despite their size.

Claude continued forward, catching the trademark staleness of a few other vampires scattered about. A familiar smell reached him then, one of cherry blossoms spiced with a hint of ginger, and he immediately identified it as Hannah. She was somewhere in the room, hard at work. Craning his head toward the direction her scent seemed strongest, he saw a flash of her long silver-white hair, drawn back in a braid. She was busy tending to a table of five.

A few steps on, Claude caught the scent of a fairy, something he hadn't smelled in a long time. The fair folk were few and far between these days, most of them either having been hunted down by superstitious humans or having returned to their own cities nestled in the world's deepest forests, withdrawing in disgust and disillusionment from modern society. Claude well remembered the last time he'd encountered a fairy; it hadn't ended well and he had the scar to prove it. Instinctively he steered clear of the unmistakable scent of water and autumn leaves.

Finally, Claude reached the bar. He shoved his way in between two human men seated on stools and flagged down the nearest bartender. It was a man, despite the waist length flowing bright red hair. Glasses with thick red rectangular frames perched on his nose, held there by a silver chain accented with black beads and two amazingly detailed skull beads dangling from the bows. The glasses did nothing to hide unnaturally bright greenish-yellow eyes that took in Claude's appearance with interest.

“What can I get you, honey?” A clipped English accent spoken in a decidedly feminine tone.

“Jack Daniels on the rocks.” Demons couldn't get drunk on human liquor so Claude had nothing to worry about there. He simply enjoyed the smoky taste of whiskey and the way it tingled going down.

“Sure thing.” The visually jarring bartender scooted away to fulfill the order, sliding gracefully around his co-worker, also a man and also with waist length hair, although it was silvery-gray in color. He didn't wear glasses but when he glanced over at Claude knowingly, he had the same greenish-yellow eyes as his compatriot.

Curious, Claude took a furtive sniff of the gently moving air in the bartenders' wakes, smelling something almost heavenly. Claude had smelled it before, many times throughout his life and it usually didn't bode well. Both of the bartenders were grim reapers, divine beings created by God solely to collect the souls of the dying and read and catalog their cinematic records, literally moving reels housing a mortal's memories and the story of their lives. It was odd to find reapers on the human plane when they weren't involved in a collection, but it wasn't unheard of. Perhaps these two were retired.

The red-head was back swiftly with Claude's whiskey and he accepted it gratefully. He paid the reaper and even left him a generous tip, which earned him a wide smile full of sharp teeth and a delighted full body wiggle. Claude had to chuckle at the reaper's antics; no doubt he was a favorite with patrons.

Claude was about to turn away from the bar when suddenly Hannah appeared at his side. “You made it, Claude!” She beamed a genuine smile at him as she handed a sip of paper across the bar to the red-head. He took it, read it quickly and moved away to take care of the drink order. “Make it snappy, Grell!” Hannah called after him.

“I did,” Claude replied when Hannah turned back to him. “Couldn't stand sitting at home any longer.”

Hannah chuckled. “It's good for you to get out once in a while, Mr. Homebody,” she teased before gesturing around them at the room and the clientele. “So what do you think of this place so far?”

Claude arched an eyebrow. “I got to the bottom of the stairs and immediately found myself being propositioned by the vampire at the front desk.”

Hannah laughed. “Alaina? Yeah, she's not shy about that sort of thing when she sees a man she likes. Take it as a compliment.”

“Oh I did,” Claude assured her, grinning. “Feels good to be admired now and then.”

Hannah leaned over and bumped her shoulder against his. “It does. But please, Claude. Your age alone is enough to make you the hottest commodity in this joint. Among supernaturals at least.” Hannah's quick blue eyes were darting around, taking in the people nearby. She grinned. “And it seems at least a few humans are thinking along the same lines.”

Now that Claude was aware of it, he could easily pick out a number of humans close by who were eying him interestedly, while trying to be discreet about it. Most of them were women but several were men. Claude thought nothing of this; he had dallied with plenty of men throughout his lifetime. Demons and indeed other supernatural beings rarely got hung up on gender distinctions the way humans did, not caring if an interested party were male or female. If the attraction was there, it didn't matter. No sense in missing out on mutual pleasure just because the other person was the same gender. Claude thought the very idea of it was silly and it was something about humans he would never understand.

“How flattering,” Claude murmured. “But I’d be more flattered if they were demons. Speaking of, besides you I haven’t smelled another demon here yet.”

Hannah set her tray up on the bar so Grell could set the drinks on it as he made them. The red-headed bartender was moving quickly, using just a touch of his heightened speed. Claude watched as his hands became nearly a blur behind the bar, keeping them low enough that the human patrons nearby wouldn’t see. “There’s a few employed here,” Hannah answered quietly. “Most of them are back of house staff or aren’t here tonight.”

Claude felt his shoulders droop just a bit. He had been hoping to cross paths with another of his kind and hopefully do a little socializing. For as solitary as Claude tended to be, every now and then it was nice to have a little companionship that wasn’t Hannah. Hannah made a fine roommate; she was sensitive to Claude’s moods and left him in peace when he didn’t want to talk and drifted in to keep him company when he was feeling a tad alone. He didn’t like to admit it but even demons needed social contact sometimes and the most satisfying contact was with others of their species.

Hannah noticed his disappointment immediately. “There’s always Alaina,” she suggested helpfully, her hand darting out quickly to squeeze his forearm in understanding before pulling away again. “She’d be most eager to go home with you later.”

Claude shook his head and downed a deep swallow of his whiskey before replying. “You know it’s not the same.”

“I know.” Hannah’s voice was soft and tinged with sadness.

Claude looked at her curiously. “Do you miss Hell as much as I do?”

“I miss it dearly,” Hannah replied without hesitation. “It’s home, you know.”

Claude nodded but said nothing more. Grell appeared seemingly from nowhere, placing the last drink on Hannah’s tray. “That’s all of it, Hannah,” he chimed in his femininely cheerful tone.

Hannah flashed the reaper a brilliant smile as she picked up the tray, carefully hoisting it up to rest on her shoulder. “Thanks, dearie. You’re the best.” She blew Grell a kiss over the bar as she began moving away. She paused briefly at Claude’s shoulder to murmur, “Don’t be so down. You’re a handsome man with options. Go mingle. You never know what you might find.” Then she was gone, melting into the crowd on her way back to thirsty patrons.

Grell was busily wiping down the bar with a towel but his bright eyes were fixed on Claude. “She’s right, honey. I’d offer you the pleasure of my company.” He smiled briefly, showing off those sharp teeth that Claude had noticed before, and giving him a saucy wink. “I’m no demon but I could keep you occupied for hours. Unfortunately I have work to do.” The reaper’s pale pink lips turned down slightly in a pout.

Claude sighed. He should have known that a reaper would have been able to overhear his conversation with Hannah. They were known for having some of the best ears in the supernatural realm. “Thanks…I think,” Claude replied, arching a brow at the bartender.

Grell let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a laugh, wrapping his arms around himself in a theatrical hug, still clutching the bar towel in one long-fingered hand. “Oooh, this is why I just love your kind! Always playing hard to get. Such a delicious game!”

Claude snorted and shook his head. He tipped his glass back once more and downed the remains of his drink in one swallow. When he was finished he saw with a small note of relief that Grell was occupied with another customer, batting long lashes coquettishly at a cute young man as he ordered a drink. It seemed the reaper was a flirtatious one, his attentions as erratic as his moods. Claude left his empty glass on the bar and slipped away into the throng.

At the other end of the room, a band was busily setting up the last of their equipment. The stage wasn’t huge but it was spacious enough for the average band of four to five musicians to move around a little and still have room for their things. A tall statue of a weeping angel with wide sweeping wings loomed above the rear of the stage, highlighted in white lights from directly above. It gave the angel’s form hard edges, casting harsh shadows across its facial features. The effect was eerie and one Claude could appreciate. It brought to mind the lore about fallen angels, cast down from Heaven to live forever out of God’s favor.

Claude found himself moving closer to the stage, curious about what sort of music these humans played. If the band was good, perhaps this night wouldn’t be a total waste after all.

It was only a few more minutes before the singer approached the mic and introduced the band, catching the crowd’s attention with his unexpectedly smooth voice. It was a voice befitting a demon, Claude thought but he could smell nothing from the band but the scent of sweat and anticipation. A few moments later, when they started into the first song, Claude found himself pleasantly surprised and already liking it. Their sound was instantly different than anything Claude had heard previously. There were atmospheric guitars and soaring vocals paired with pounding bass lines and pummeling drums, a clever mix of beautiful melodies and the punishing undertones of heavy metal.

It seemed the crowd around him agreed or perhaps this band was a local favorite, which Claude thought was likely from the way a large group of people quickly migrated to the front of the floor right before the stage, suddenly turning into one writhing mass of bodies. Long hair flew in all directions and countless hands pumped in the air above their owners’ heads. Claude had to smile faintly; this was humans giving in to their most primal instincts, prompted to let go of their so-called civility by the music. It was a beautiful sight and one that Claude would never tire of seeing. Humankind would always like think themselves above such primal actions and emotions but the inescapable truth was that they were all wild things under their carefully crafted veneer.

Claude found himself drawn to the teeming group of humans, lured by the smell of their spiking emotions, ranging from desire to mindless rage, all of it fed by the adrenaline the band had tapped into so successfully. Before he fully knew what had happened, Claude was among the throng, moving with them and letting the music wash over his senses. He hadn’t done anything like this in a very long time and he had to admit that it felt good. In this modern world so populated by supernatural beings, demons still lived in the shadows and it was much harder than it used to be to indulge even a little in one's true demonic nature. There were more humans on the planet than ever before in history and in their great numbers could actually pose a threat to the demonkind trapped among them. It had been a couple of years now since Claude had had a soul; it was simply too troublesome to avoid the prying eyes and wagging tongues that were everywhere in society, not to mention the law. Most demons stuck on the earthly plane wanted to blend in and live as humans did, avoiding conflict with other races if possible, having no escape to Hell readily available if things went wrong. Claude firmly included himself in that category. He had seen several times the harm humans could inflict upon supernaturals and he had no wish to bring such punishment down upon his own head.

So it had become necessary to find other outlets for the hunger and other urges that inevitably crept up. Claude was old and could control himself better than younger demons but eventually it had all caught up to him too. Living among so many humans and never being able to taste any of their souls was a challenge. Claude had found himself grateful for places like Hell's Kitchen over the years; supernatural beings could come together and take the edge off their frustrations in whatever way they desired. It just so happened that that often led to sex.

Claude let his body move freely with the music, his eyes sliding shut as he lost himself in the rhythm. The ethereal quality to the sound brought to mind the rituals of times long past, rituals full of writhing bodies like the ones around him, hot, sweaty, aroused. Rituals soaked in blood and death. Claude shivered slightly at the memory and let his tongue nick against an elongated canine. The brief but sharp sting of pain as his tooth cut into his flesh made him realize that he was himself more aroused by the whole situation than he had at first thought.

Claude groaned. It had been a while since he'd had sex with anyone.

Hot on the heels of this thought, Claude jolted in surprise as he felt someone brush up against him. It was a fleeting contact and Claude brushed it off; he was in the middle of a crush of moving humans after all. Some accidental contact was to be expected. A few moments passed during which he continued to enjoy the music and move with the crowd around him but his floating awareness was brought back to himself sharply when someone touched him again, in the same manner as before but more firmly. This time fingertips slid across Claude’s chest teasingly and there was no doubt that the touch was deliberate. Claude’s eyes flew open, narrowing; he was ready to snap at the bumbling human who had gotten a little too handsy when the scent he’d been searching for all night reached his nose.

The being invading his personal space was no human at all but rather another demon. Finally. The scent was unmistakable and Claude breathed deeply of cinnamon and freshly turned earth crossed with something clear and cold like mountain air. He knew immediately that the other demon was quite old but still younger than he was, the scent lacking the distinct ancient undertone that all the truly old ones boasted. This demon was also male and just as aroused as he was. He had likely followed Claude’s scent through the crowd, taking the smell of desire as an open invitation.

Which wasn’t entirely wrong.

Eyes the shade of deep rubies gazed back at Claude, swirling with hunger and lust which were no doubt reflected in Claude’s own. The other demon was shorter than Claude by a couple of inches and built even leaner. The hand against Claude’s chest was slender and elegant with long fingers tipped in satin black nails just like Claude’s own. Long graceful limbs moved with the rhythm of the music, slim hips encased in tight black jeans swaying enticingly. A black and white striped shirt under a black blazer hid what was certainly a trimly muscular torso. 

The newcomer edged closer, smirking at Claude’s obvious perusal. “See something you like?” he asked in a smooth melodious voice. He was handsome too, Claude thought appreciatively, taking in the sculpted cheekbones, straight patrician nose and sensual mouth, all framed by lustrous black hair that brushed just past his collar. Long bangs fell across his face in a manner that seemed somehow refined rather than unkempt. There was something about him that oozed charisma and natural allure, obvious even at first meeting.

Claude grinned in return, letting the tips of his elongated teeth peek out from under his upper lip. “I certainly do.”

The other demon smiled wider, showing off his own fangs in response. “Good. Because I see something I like as well.” He paused and then added, “I’m Sebastian.” And so saying, he moved even closer until there was nothing but a couple inches separating their bodies. Claude couldn’t help but lean in, breathing deeply of the younger demon’s intoxicating scent as he matched his movements to Claude’s. Sebastian’s nostrils flared as he pulled in Claude’s scent, a rich fragrance of amber and musk made all the deeper and more complex by the primal excitement lacing through it. Ruby eyes briefly flashed the swirling violet-pink shade all demons shared before he smirked knowingly at Claude as the music changed. 

The new piece being played was less aggressive and more sensual, full of throbbing bass lines and a gyrating beat that went straight to Claude’s groin. Claude knew his eyes had to be shining that inhuman color and he growled deep in his throat, a sound of pure dominance. Sebastian responded in kind, though his own growl had a softer quality to it, telling Claude that he wasn’t challenging the authority of one as old as he but merely reflecting and sharing in the same physical urges. Before Claude could fully comprehend what was happening through the haze in his mind, his companion had turned around and pressed himself back against Claude, instantly falling into the rhythm of Claude’s movements. Claude groaned at the feel of that firm ass fitted perfectly against his crotch, grinding back on him provocatively. His hands immediately clamped around Sebastian’s shifting hips, pulling him closer and guiding his motions until jolts of hot pleasure were running along Claude’s nerves from head to toe. 

Claude was well aware of the fact that he was achingly hard and all he could think about was sliding his cock into the cleft of the younger demon’s ass and spreading him wide, of how amazing it would feel to bend him over a table and take him from behind. It had been far too long since he’d had another demon for a lover. Sebastian’s moan was audible to Claude’s ears even over the music, though anyone else wouldn’t have heard it. The sound only made Claude harden further and he ground shamelessly against Sebastian. Gradually the dynamic between them changed until Claude was the one driving their combined movement, his hips setting the rhythm as they pushed forward against his companion’s backside. Their bodies were so molded together and moving in synch that they might as well have been having sex right there on the dance floor, if not for the layers of clothing between them.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, allowing Claude access to his neck. It was a blatant sign of submission for a demon to present himself this way and one that couldn’t be ignored. Claude immediately clamped his mouth on the smooth pale skin bared to him, sucking and nipping at it none too gently. This seemed to be just fine with Sebastian however, if his long moan was anything to judge by. His arms slid up and back to curl around Claude’s neck, his fingers sliding into Claude’s hair and gripping tightly.

One of Claude’s hands left Sebastian’s hip to slide down to his crotch, cupping the hardness he knew he would find there. Sebastian’s reaction was immediate and satisfying, his hips bucking forward as he whimpered softly, seeking friction from Claude's touch. Claude indulged him, palming his arousal firmly until Sebastian’s hips were moving freely with the rhythm and he'd leaned further back against Claude. Claude let his mouth work its way up Sebastian’s neck to his ear where he caught the lobe between his teeth, tugging at it.

Claude was completely unconcerned by the fact that they were doing this on the dance floor, amidst dozens and dozens of strangers, none of whom seemed to notice or if they did, didn't care. Sebastian however, seemed to suddenly realize where exactly they were and abruptly straightened, reaching down to grasp Claude's wrist, stopping his motion.

“What's wrong?” Claude asked, his lustful haze thinning a bit at the interruption.

“I can't do this,” Sebastian gasped. “Not here anyway.”

Claude's brows furrowed; he thought it a bit unusual for a demon to make a fuss about such things. It was in their nature to not care about who saw what was happening between them. After all, mating in Hell often took place in full view of others but...this wasn't Hell was it? And Claude knew discretion was valued among humans and if a demon hoped to live peaceably among them, then that demon must also exercise discretion. Claude included himself in that category and it was likely that Sebastian did too so Claude couldn't fault his logic for pulling the stop card before things got any more heated than they already were.

“I understand,” Claude assured Sebastian, stepping back a bit to put some space between them. He couldn't help feeling disappointed though. Sebastian was ridiculously attractive and Claude had no doubt that a sexual encounter between them would have been highly satisfying for them both. Nevertheless Claude wouldn't force anyone into anything they didn't want to do. 

Sebastian was looking embarrassed and guilty and couldn't quite meet Claude's gaze. “I'm terribly sorry,” he spluttered and Claude couldn't help thinking he was the cutest thing he'd seen in a while. Claude mentally shook himself; when had he started thinking of things or people in terms of cuteness? Apparently he had spent far too much time in the mortal world.

But Sebastian’s behavior was just as curious. Since when did demons, particularly healthy males, back out of a sexual encounter? Claude's brows furrowed slightly. The entire situation which had seemed so simple only a minute ago when their bodies had been pressed together and moving in tandem, was now infinitely more complex and confusing.

Sebastian noticed Claude's expression and apparently immediately mistook it for anger or disgust or something similar because his own face reflected something Claude could only call mortification. “I'm sorry,” he apologized hastily once more. “I've got to go.” With that, he was gone, slinking off through the writhing crowd as silently and swiftly as he'd appeared.

Claude could only stare after him in surprise. He hadn't expected the other demon to beat such a hasty retreat. By the time that Claude took a step forward to go after Sebastian, the crowd had completely swallowed him and it was impossible to tell where he had gone. Claude sighed in frustration; how very typical of a demon to disappear like that, seemingly into thin air.

Claude pushed forward through the crowd anyway, intent on getting off the dance floor. His brief but stimulating encounter with Sebastian had left him more riled up and hungry than he'd been in a while. He was horny, as the humans liked to say, and he had no desire to take care of the issue by himself. He headed past the werewolf bouncers and out to the front entryway again, hoping to find Alaina. 

The vampire was right where she'd been before, leaning on her elbows on the desktop and flipping aimlessly through a magazine. She stiffened and her head snapped up as she caught a whiff of Claude's heated scent, her eyes going straight to him as he approached. All interest in her reading material was abandoned instantly. Pearly red leaked into her irises and her lips parted to show her fangs already on display. “Oh my,” she murmured. 

Claude planted his hands on her desktop and leaned over closer to her. “Is your offer still open?”

Alaina licked her lips slowly and answered, “Yes. Most definitely.” She paused and breathed him in more deeply, her eyes widening slightly. “You're ready to go right now, aren't you?”

Claude smirked and let his tongue run over his bottom lip; he could still taste Sebastian’s skin there and that did nothing but stoke the fire in his gut. “You have no idea, my pet.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning saw Claude standing silently at the living room window, staring out at an overcast dawn. He was wearing an old t-shirt and loose pants and nursing a steaming cup of strong black coffee. Demons didn’t require sustenance of any kind besides souls but Claude liked to indulge in certain things anyway, both for the sake of appearing human and for his own enjoyment, coffee being one of them. He always drank it piping hot and black, savoring the bitterness on his tongue.

He thought idly that the sky looked like it would bring snow later in the day. He couldn’t be sure until he’d stepped outside and breathed in the crisp air. His nose was always more accurate than any meteorologist on TV. His kind was naturally very in tune with the weather patterns, being bound to nature as they were. Claude could always smell rain or snow well ahead of its arrival, sometimes a day or more in advance.

The Warehouse District was still quiet at this hour; it wasn’t quite six-thirty yet and the greatest rush of people headed to work had yet to appear. The power plant on the west edge of downtown spewed great pillars of white smoke into the cold air and to Claude’s left, no more than half a mile away, he could see the steam rising from the river as it rushed over the falls by the locks, the one place that never froze in the winter. The urban sprawl was quite beautiful, looking almost fragile in the frosty air, and Claude took a moment to appreciate the view from the loft apartment which he and Hannah both so adored.

This city had been a good home for them once it had proven impossible to return to Hell. Sometimes Claude wondered if he would even wish to go back there if the opportunity ever presented itself, however unlikely. He found there was no clear answer on that question. Hell never changed much and that gave it the advantage of being familiar while Earth was ever-changing. Perhaps the human race itself was essentially always the same but the place they called home operated according to its own will. Claude found himself alternately annoyed and awed by this quality.

Down below, increased activity could be seen as tired humans forced themselves to get into cold vehicles for their morning commute or trudge unenthusiastically toward the bus stop. Claude watched with apathetic eyes; the depth of human exhaustion was something he could never wrap his head around.

Claude had declined any sleep that night in favor of watching the new day approach, as sleep was just another luxury he could easily go without. He found that his mind was too noisy to have had allowed him any semblance of rest if he’d chosen to indulge in any. His thoughts were full of the demon he’d met the previous night at Hell’s Kitchen. He couldn’t get Sebastian out of his head; even in the midst of lovemaking with the very enthusiastic Alaina, all Claude could think of was the other demon. He’d closed his eyes so he could see that beautiful face in his mind’s eye and when he’d finally reached his long-awaited completion he couldn’t help wishing it was Sebastian underneath him instead, crying out his name.

Claude sighed. Damn Sebastian for having such an effect on him in such a short amount of time, in one single meeting. It was a bit ridiculous actually. They were complete strangers and were unlikely to ever see one another again. But it was impossible to deny that Sebastian had piqued his interest in a way no one else had in a long while. There was the younger demon’s unconscious allure which had caught his attention, certainly, but there was something else about him that Claude couldn’t quite put a finger on. Sebastian had seemed to be a delightful set of walking contradictions, an intriguing mix of shameless hedonism and shy innocence. It was an odd combination, especially for a demon and Claude wanted to know more about Sebastian.

But that meant he had to find him again. Such a task might prove easier said than done. Claude was willing to bet he could track Sebastian by his scent if he could pick up a trail somewhere though as he was unlikely to forget that intoxicating blend of spicy cinnamon and cool black dirt and ringing mountain air any time soon. The most logical place to start was to return to where they initially crossed paths: Hell’s Kitchen.

It would be many hours before he could even think about heading to the underground establishment and Claude had zero ambition to do much of anything between then and now. He figured he might as well go to bed and indulge in some sleep. Alaina was still soundly unconscious in his bed and would be there for the majority of the day so he might as well join her. Vampires didn’t burn in the daylight, contrary to popular belief, but they were lethargic during the day and generally useless. Vamps were a powerful race but their abilities were very much tied to and dependent upon the darkness. Demons were burdened by no such limitations, thankfully. Some would say that a demon’s power came from the earth itself but Claude had always thought that it was more likely his race’s iron strength of will that gave them their vast abilities.

Alaina didn’t so much as stir a single limb when Claude slid back into bed beside her after finishing his coffee. He studied her sleeping face for a long moment, taking in the peacefulness and seeming innocence of her expression. Her plain but pleasant features were relaxed and she looked even younger. Claude now knew that she was nearly one hundred years old, having been turned in the early twenties, at the beginning of the Jazz Age. That was not old at all as vampires went; Claude had known several throughout his long life that were nearly as ancient as he was. But she had lived her life well thus far, Claude thought, recalling some of the stories he’d heard the previous night. He had to respect her for that.

Sex with her had been satisfying and Claude wouldn’t be averse to another dalliance in the future but it still wasn’t the same as having another demon for a partner. She had taken some of his blood with his consent; he had the still healing puncture wounds on his neck to prove it. While it had felt pleasurable and he’d taken some of her blood in return, the spark he loved so much when sharing blood with a fellow demon just wasn’t there. It was one of the things Claude missed the most about being with another of his own kind.

He wondered idly what Sebastian’s blood tasted like. It would be intoxicating, he was certain of that.

Claude smiled faintly and turned over on his side, settling down into the soft mattress with a sigh. He pulled the covers up a bit further and let his eyes drift closed. A minute later, there was a slight shuffling behind him and then he felt Alaina’s arm drape itself over his hip mindlessly. Claude huffed a bit but made no move to dislodge her. Claude had never been what one would call affectionate with his partners but sometimes it was nice to lay entwined with another being, even if said being was technically dead.

Claude drifted off to sleep gradually and dreamt of blood and fangs and Sebastian’s face.

When the old demon awoke, it was nearly six in the evening. He blinked in surprise at the screen of his iPhone when he checked it; he had slept for nearly twelve hours. Outside the window, the last rays of daylight were dying in the western sky and Claude knew within the hour it would be fully dark. Nightfall came early and lasted a long time this time of year. So many of the humans seemed to hate it but Claude didn’t mind. He’d always been comfortable in the darkness. Of course it helped knowing that there was little in this realm that would be a threat to a being as powerful and ancient as he. Humans had much more to be afraid of.

Claude threw the covers back and stumbled out of bed. That was when he realized that Alaina wasn’t in the other side of the bed anymore and he wondered if she had left for work already. He headed out of his bedroom, still the tiniest bit groggy and running long fingers through his rumpled dark hair. He paused at the kitchen doorway, surprised to see Hannah unloading the dishwasher. She was wearing dark jeans and her Hell’s Kitchen t-shirt, her hair once more swept back in its usual long braid. She looked up at him and smiled at his disheveled appearance. It was nothing unusual after so long of sharing a dwelling but the sight never failed to make her grin.

“Sleep good?” she asked with a hint of laughter.

Claude scowled at her faintly, knowing she was teasing him. “Since seven this morning,” he grunted, voice slightly hoarse.

Hannah didn’t pause in stacking the coffee mugs in the cupboard. “That’s a long time,” she commented. “Alaina must have really worn you out, you old man.”

Claude snorted. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally. Truthfully it seemed that between the blood Alaina had taken from him and the energy she had drained from his vast reserves, his body had merely wanted to rest. “I take it she already left?” Hannah nodded. He paused and then asked, “Where were you last night?”

Hannah shrugged as she closed the dishwasher. “I stayed with a co-worker. I found out before my shift even ended that you’d taken Alaina home so I decided to give you some privacy.”

Claude shifted in the doorway. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no trouble. You’ve done it for me after all.”

Claude said nothing else on the matter, knowing she was right. And truthfully, he was somewhat grateful that Hannah had been so courteous. There had been times when they each had brought home a partner and it became like a competition to see which couple could be the loudest. Other times when just one of them had a companion for the night, the solitary party would often vacate the apartment until the following morning. It had started out as a way to escape the temptation of joining in where one may not be wanted and had morphed into an unspoken rule dealing more with respect and politeness.

“You working tonight?” Claude asked, breaking the silence.

“Yep. I picked up an extra shift.”

Claude stepped into the kitchen, finally feeling fully awake, and opened the fridge to look for something to eat. He wasn’t truly hungry, not for human food anyway. But his stomach had been feeling increasingly hollow this last year and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he would be in need of a soul. “I’m going back,” Claude said casually as he reached for the deli turkey and provolone cheese.

“To Hell’s Kitchen, you mean?” Hannah clarified from somewhere behind him.

“Yes.”

She paused and when she spoke again, her voice held an interested edge. “Did something in particular catch your attention?”

“More like someone,” Claude replied, nudging the fridge closed with his hip.

“Ah,” Hannah said knowingly. “So Alaina wasn’t your first choice last night.”

“Not that I didn’t enjoy myself but no,” Claude confessed, dumping the food on the counter and reaching for the bread. “Suffice it to say that I met another demon.”

Hannah made a little noise of delight. “See? I told you that you can never be certain what’s out there. Perhaps he’s a regular and you’ll run into him again.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Claude confessed as he began making his sandwich. A moment later he felt Hannah’s presence just behind his back and then her warm palm came down on his solid shoulder, squeezing for just a moment before disappearing again.

“I’m pleased you’re going back. It’s good to get out and socialize, even for a crotchety old thing like you.” It was impossible to miss the trace of fondness in her voice. “I worry about you, you know, you stubborn demon.”

“Why would you worry about me?” Claude asked, surprised. He figured he shouldn’t have been surprised; Hannah had always been odd among their brethren for her ability to form attachments. Claude could recall how dearly she had loved several of her contractors over the centuries, to the point that she had been severely depressed for a while after taking their souls. Still, that affection had never stopped her from carrying out her end of the contract. Humans were still food.

Hannah chuckled. “We have been companions now for a long time, Claude. I know you better than you think I do. You can’t think that I have never noticed how you lock yourself away and brood.”

Claude realized that he had been foolish to hope that she had never noticed his moods. He felt vaguely embarrassed. “Thank you, I guess,” he murmured, knowing that Hannah’s affection had been the one thing that had kept him going at various times. When one was as old as Claude the many millenniums were bound to catch up sooner or later. Inevitably there were going to be times when Claude felt weary or bored or exasperated with this world and even his own existence within it. When it had been learned that the gates to Hell were permanently closed to all demons on the mortal plane, Claude had spent several days in sulking silence, not saying a single word and thinking about the home he would never see again. It was Hannah who had slowly coaxed him back out of his shell.

For all her jaded views towards the human race in general, she was determined to make the most out of her life in their world. As the years had passed, Claude had tried to cultivate a similar attitude. He wasn’t sure he’d entirely succeeded yet but this morning’s musings about whether he would actually return to Hell if given the chance seemed to indicate that he was finally adjusting to the idea of staying in the mortal realm forever. Perhaps making a life here wasn’t such a bad thing.

There was a click as Hannah closed the dishwasher door. “I’d better get on my way down to work,” she said as she moved past Claude toward the entryway. “Maybe I’ll see you later?”

Claude flashed her a tiny smile. “Maybe. Have a good shift if I don’t.”

“Thanks.” Hannah shrugged into her thick hoodie before grabbing her purse and keys. Claude couldn’t help but think of how human she looked just then, as if she were any other young woman preparing to go out. She reached for the doorknob. “Goodbye, Claude!” Her voice was light and mellow and lingered in the air long after the door had closed behind her.

Claude ate and got dressed at a leisurely pace. He pulled on a pair of worn-in dark wash jeans, the ones that Hannah liked on him because, as she put it, they made his ass look divine. He’d never been overly concerned with what others thought of him and had often hung onto pieces of his wardrobe he’d particularly favored even after they were long since out of style by human standards. He often missed the elegant clothes of ages past but he would be the first to admit that modern fashion was infinitely more comfortable than anything he’d worn in the last several centuries. And now and then he figured there was nothing wrong with playing up his assets a bit.

Claude made use of the skyways that he so appreciated to make his way to Hell’s Kitchen. Though the cold outside wouldn’t have been anything more than an annoyingly noticeable chill to him, he still found the stroll through the skyway corridors enjoyable. There was always something infinitely more enchanting about passing over the street, high above, knowing that hundreds of people and vehicles were going about their business below your feet. It was a different perspective than what one got at street level. Not that that view didn’t also come with its own delights and curiosities but Claude had to be in the right mood to truly appreciate it. Oftentimes the crush of humanity standing on the street corners waiting for the signal to change was simply irritating or frustrating, especially recently. Claude knew this was just one more indication that he was getting hungry.

He passed over La Salle Avenue and paused briefly to take in the sight of some of the city’s tallest buildings aglow in the night, the streetlamps below illuminating the snow that was gently swirling down from the sky. The snow he’d predicted that morning had arrived not long after dark fell. Claude thought it was rather beautiful and even peaceful and then he wondered once more if he’d been too long in the mortal realm that he was noticing things like this. Claude shook his head in exasperation at his own train of thought, his reflection in the glass mimicking him, and continued on his way with a quiet sigh.

His steps quickened as he neared his destination and he found that descending into Hell's Kitchen this time felt almost comforting. It had to be the below ground factor, he mused. As he reached the bottom step, he could see Alaina seated at the front desk, just as she'd been the previous night. She was busy shuffling papers and making notes on each sheet, looking much more engaged and far less bored than last night. No doubt hearing his footsteps on the tiled floor with her sharp ears, she looked up, her features schooled into a pleasant expression. When she saw Claude, her lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Back again?” she teased lightly as he approached.

Claude shrugged. “I have nothing else to do,” he told her nonchalantly. It was true but hardly his first reason for being here. But she didn't need to know that.

Alaina grew momentarily serious and when she spoke, her voice was low. “Listen, I'm sorry I just slipped out earlier. I don't want you think I'm rude but I had to get to work and you were sleeping so soundly...”

Claude waved her apology aside. “Don't worry about it. It's not as if there's a set way of doing these things, is there?”

Alaina chuckled. “No I guess there isn't. Just wanted to clear that up.” She paused and then let the tips of her fangs peek out from under her lip. “By the way, thank you for last night. The blood I took from you will hold me over for quite a while.”

Claude let a slightly mischievous grin curl the corners of his lips. “You're welcome. It was my pleasure.”

Alaina's expression turned playful. “If you ever need a companion for the night any time in the future, be sure to call me. I put my number in your phone before I left.”

Claude arched a brow. Typical of a vampire to be so bold and so sly. “I'll be sure to do that.”

The approach of arriving customers precluded any further discussion and Claude headed off in the direction of the main bar, leaving Alaina to do her job, all charm and cheery smiles, any sign of her elongated canines gone in the presence of humans.

Upon entering the area, Claude saw that it was just as packed last night, if not more so. He paused by the doorway, quickly spotting the werewolf bouncers once more. They were even more alert and watchful than last time he'd seen them, their eyes constantly roving and their bodies coiled ready for action. While any supernatural was endowed with generous amounts of strength and could have filled the role of security competently, weres were particularly well-suited to such a job. Their impressive brute strength and swiftness were unrivaled throughout the supernatural realm yet they retained an almost infinite patience borne of being natural hunters. This meant that they would willingly wait for an altercation but not start one, and respond accordingly to threats without hesitation, acting purely on instinct. Claude wondered with amusement just how many fights these two small females had broken up and how many troublemakers they had tossed out of the establishment. No doubt the expressions of the antagonists were always priceless as they found themselves collared by someone half their size and thrown out on their ear. He hoped to witness such a scene sometime. It would be great entertainment.

The sharp gaze of one of the bouncers caught Claude as he lingered just inside the entrance and he found himself unable to move momentarily, taken off-guard at having that intensity suddenly directed at him. He realized that he must appear as though he was scoping out the crowd for fresh prey with the way he was loitering on the edges and he couldn't fault the were for doing her job. She was young, perhaps mid-twenties, and striking in an almost exotic way with pale skin, deep brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail that fell to her lower back. Her features held an Eastern European air, perhaps Romanian or Hungarian. Claude's mind registered vaguely that this made sense; one of the largest werewolf packs in the world was based in Bucharest. A long tense moment passed as werewolf and demon stared at one another and Claude knew she was taking stock of him, deciding if he was going to be a problem among the crowd. He did his utmost to keep his aura drawn in and close to himself, nonthreatening. Finally, the were's eyes flashed a shade of liquid silver and she nodded to him before turning away.

Claude set out into the crowd, feeling comfortable that he’d passed the bouncer’s inspection. The last thing he wanted was any trouble that would interfere with his search for Sebastian. Gradually, so as to avoid being overwhelmed as he’d been the previous night, Claude opened his senses to the people and beings around him. Once again the indistinguishable mass of humanity was thick and heavy on the air and Claude immediately ignored it, pushing past it to the individual strains of supernatural beings. He blocked out the piney scent of the weres and began cataloguing all the other scents he encountered as he made his way toward the bar. Might as well have a drink while he was here.

There were more vampires in the crowd tonight and the fae was noticeably absent, which Claude was more than fine with. He caught Hannah’s trail again, scattered all across the room. When he reached the bar, he could instantly smell the reapers behind it, now that he knew without a doubt what they were. Much the same mix as the previous night but the one smell that Claude had been hoping to stumble across was missing. He staved off a wave of disappointment by telling himself that perhaps Sebastian just hadn’t arrived yet.

Grell greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Welcome back, handsome.” The reaper leaned on his slender elbows on the bar, giving his head a coquettish toss. “What are you thirsting for tonight, hmm? Perhaps I can assist.”

“You can make me a drink,” the demon replied, arching a fine brow at Grell’s suggestive tone. “Otherwise I seriously doubt it.” Claude slid onto a bar stool, deciding to sit for a while and observe the crowd. If Sebastian were to pass this way, Claude would be sure to see him.

Grell pouted for all of two seconds before splitting into a grin as he straightened and pushed away from the bar. “Same as last night? Whiskey on the rocks?”

Claude nodded absently, his golden eyes fixed on the other patrons nearby as they moved about. “Yes, that’s fine.” Grell had already poured the amber liquor into a glass and set it in front of him, moving in a blur and yet not spilling a single drop, before Claude had a thought. He turned and looked at the red-headed bartender intently.

Grell’s brows raised questioningly. “Yes?”

“Tell me,” Claude said in a low tone. “You reapers have photographic memories, do you not?”

Grell pursed his lips for a moment, as if debating whether he should answer the question. The long-standing feud between their two races still raged on, Claude knew. It was likely frowned upon for reapers to have any sort of association with demons outside of combat and he also knew that the reapers were a very secretive race. Little was known about them and information was hard to come by. Their secrets were closely guarded by not only themselves but by Heaven as well, seeing as how the reapers directly answered to the archangel Saraqel, the so-called Angel of Death. Finally, Grell replied slowly and with a note of suspicion, “Yes, you are correct. We boast the best memories of any species in the supernatural realm. You could say we never forget anything.” He paused and lightly tapped his temple with a finely manicured fingernail. “Minds like steel traps.”

“I’m looking for someone,” Claude said, his gaze never wavering.

Grell grinned slowly. “Ah. Now I see your interest. I may be able to help.”

“Name your terms, then,” Claude said bluntly. There was always a price to pay for information or aid; this was one minor way in which supernaturals and mortals were alike. Nothing was ever completely free.

A strange glitter appeared in Grell’s unnaturally bright eyes. There was something unsettling about it, Claude had to admit, and it served to remind him that reapers, though mysterious and sometimes flamboyant, were always dangerous. “You can’t put me on the spot like that, love,” Grell trilled with a low laugh. “There’s nothing I need at this moment. Let’s just say that you make yourself available to perform an errand for me in the future and we’ll consider it a deal.”

Claude hesitated; it could prove disastrous for him to put himself at this reaper’s whims but he was impatient to find Sebastian. On the very likely chance that Grell knew anything useful, it would cut the time he could otherwise waste searching for the other demon in half, at least. That seemed worth whatever inconvenience he might face later. He took a drink of the whiskey as he pondered the whole thing. Demons were the proverbial masters of making deals after all. He nodded as he set his glass down on the bar with a quiet thunk. “Fine.”

Grell smiled wide, showcasing his sharp teeth, and clapped his hands delightedly. “It’s agreed then! Who are you seeking?”

“Another demon by the name of Sebastian. I need to know if he’s a regular here.”

Claude was surprised by the wariness that immediately appeared in Grell’s eyes. He straightened a tiny bit and all signs of mirth vanished from his face. He looked more serious than Claude had thought possible. “What did he look like?” Grell’s voice was low, indicating that he did not wish for anyone to overhear their conversation.

When Claude spoke again, he lowered his own voice to match Grell’s. “Nearly as tall as me, black haired, with eyes the color of blood. Do you know him?”

Grell nodded. “I do.” The reaper seemed strangely reluctant to say anything else and after a few moments, Claude grew impatient.

“We made a deal, reaper,” he reminded the bartender, letting just a hint of a growl color his voice.

“I know,” Grell hissed, shooting him a glare. “It’s just that he tries not to draw too much attention to himself. He doesn’t like being spoken of.”

Claude’s brows furrowed. Sebastian certainly hadn’t been shy last night when he’d first approached Claude on the dance floor. But then he thought of how the other demon had backed out of their encounter so hastily, as if he’d suddenly realized that he’d gotten carried away. Why had he been so concerned? What sort of a reputation could he possibly have to uphold? “So he’s a regular then,” Claude prompted.

Grell sighed. “You could say that. He’s my boss.”

“Oh,” Claude said intelligently.

“Yes,” Grell went on with a shrug, as if deciding that now that the secret was out, he might as well divulge the rest of it. “Allow me to clarify. He’s not just my boss. He owns this place.”

“Huh. I see.” Claude couldn’t seem to form anything more complicated at the moment. His mind was busy processing Grell’s words; suddenly Sebastian’s behavior the previous night made much more sense. If Sebastian was the owner and proprietor of Hell’s Kitchen, he was certainly aware of how the humans perceived him. He did indeed have a reputation to uphold and being seen writhing on the dance floor of his own establishment while being groped by another man would certainly tarnish that reputation.

Grell chuckled in a distinctly apologetic tone. “I take it that’s not what you were expecting to hear.”

Claude glanced up at the reaper and let one side of his mouth pull up into an ironic grin. “Not exactly.”

Grell opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by his fellow bartender brushing by, nudging him with a shoulder as he did so. “Get back to work, Grell. The orders are piling up.” The other reaper had a smooth voice, his tone quiet but edged with power. Claude caught the flash of yellow-green eyes take him in from under long silvery fringe before he moved away. Claude wondered how old the reaper was. There was a certain air about him that spoke of age and experience, something that Grell lacked in any great portion.

Grell sighed again but offered Claude a smile. “I better do as he says. Undertaker there takes his bartending seriously.” He paused for a beat then leaned ever so slightly closer to Claude to whisper, “Good luck in whatever venture you’re on. Don’t forget about our deal.” Then the redhead was gone, twirling away in a flurry of giggles and long tresses to tend to other patrons.

Claude continued to sit on his barstool and sip his whiskey, thinking about what the reaper had said. It was certainly unusual for demons to become so deeply entrenched in the mortal world that they bought into the ways of human society by making large investments or owning a business. But, Claude thought, they were stuck here and it was obvious that Sebastian had planned ahead. Perhaps that’s what they all should have been doing all along.

Claude was unsure of how much time had passed when a commotion near the doorway drew his attention. His sharp ears picked up the sounds of distressed humans, their voices high pitched and trembling. From the corner of his eye he could see the reapers going about their work steadily, in a fashion that struck him as mindless, distracted. It was obvious in the way they held their shoulders and tilted their heads ever so slightly that they too were listening, though the signs would have been too subtle for the majority of humans to notice. He scented the air and could suddenly smell their fear and disgust, practically taste it. It stirred something ancient and utterly primal in him and he was suddenly curious about what had the humans so riled up. Wherever there was the promise of chaos, demons were sure to be found. He downed the last of his whiskey and left payment on the bar before slipping away into the crowd, winding his way back toward the door.

As he approached, the first thing he noticed was the tension in the air. There was a small knot of humans just inside the doorway, four of them clustered together. It was clear that they knew one another and had likely arrived together, judging from the way they clung to each other, their faces expressing shock and disbelief. One girl who looked to be no older than twenty-one was trembling violently. The scent of her fear was nearly overpowering at this closer range and Claude had to wonder what had happened. The bouncers were speaking with the more coherent of the group and Claude could pick out their scents, stronger than before and full of something he could only call protective. Pack instincts no doubt kicking in. A trickle of wariness dripped down Claude’s spine. Whatever had occurred had obviously been violent to trigger such a reaction from the weres.

He spotted Alaina hovering near the doorway, having abandoned her desk in the entryway in favor of seeing what was going on. Claude made his way over to her, slinking through the gathering humans swiftly and unobtrusively, as only a demon could do. Likely scenting him as he drew near, Alaina looked up and immediately found Claude with her gaze. He was startled to see unease reflected in her smooth brown eyes.

“What happened?” he asked in a low voice when he was an arm’s length away.

Alaina reached out to grip his elbow and drew him into the corridor, away from the immediate commotion. She glanced around as if to ensure they weren’t being eavesdropped on before speaking in a voice that was almost a whisper. “Those four came in here hollering about a dead man upstairs. I sent them in to Eve and Risa while I called 911. It seems that someone was murdered right outside our doors.”

Claude’s brows drew together as he took in the information. “A murder?” While such a thing was not unusual in a city this size, it was out of the ordinary for it to have occurred inside the skyway. Claude could think of a million reasons to not commit such a crime in such a confined and highly traveled thoroughfare. Whoever was responsible had to have been swift and precise to avoid detection and not being caught in the act.

Alaina nodded. “They said it looked like he’d been stabbed. They got no response when they tried to rouse him.” She shrugged in a manner meant to be casual but there was still that look in her eyes. “I’d assume he’s dead then.”

Claude was about to reply when words from somewhere behind him caught his attention. He paused and so did Alaina, both of them listening. “No, police are already on their way.” An authoritative tone there, no doubt one of the weres. What were their names? Eve and Risa? “Send someone for Sebastian, would you? He’ll want to know what’s going on.” Claude’s heart jumped a little at the mention of the demon he’d come in search for. Granted the circumstances were less than desirable but he would still welcome the chance to see Sebastian again.

Someone Claude didn’t recognize rushed past him and Alaina in a flurry, disappearing down the corridor past the host’s desk and around a corner. “Sebastian’s office is down there,” Alaina explained, catching Claude’s inquisitive expression. “He’s the owner.”

Claude nodded absently, his eyes remaining glued to the place the unknown person had disappeared to, waiting for Sebastian to emerge. A minute passed and there was the sound of a door slamming. Alaina turned to look just as Sebastian appeared from around the corner.

The younger demon was every bit as stunning as Claude remembered. His handsome features held a serious, displeased expression far removed from the playfulness he’d displayed last night. No doubt he was upset at the fact that a murder had taken place on his establishment’s doorstep and Claude couldn’t blame him. It meant authorities poking around and asking questions, something to be avoided if at all possible when supernaturals were involved. Hell’s Kitchen just happened to be crawling with them. Sebastian was dressed casually in a black t-shirt and dark grey pants tucked into black combat boots. Claude could just see a white leather belt encircling his slim hips, peeking out from under the hem of his shirt. His boot heels thudded dully against the tiled floor as he stalked toward the stairs leading up to the entrance, his strides purposeful, almost violent. A flash of silver caught Claude’s eye and he realized that Sebastian wore a medallion on a long chain around his slender neck. It looked peculiar, as if the medallion itself had been sunk into a setting, much like a precious stone would be set into a pendant. Sebastian turned slightly to say something to the employee trailing after him, the one who had been sent to fetch him, and Claude was able to get a better look at the piece of jewelry. His breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized it.

It was familiar. He’d seen such a medallion before. It was engraved with Enochian sigils, spelling out words of protection and comfort in the ancient language of the angels. And indeed the setting around it was not original. Claude immediately guessed the setting had been added so that Sebastian could wear it comfortably. Claude knew that such a holy object would burn a full blooded demon on contact if they touched it. Claude was filled with curiosity. Why would Sebastian wear such a thing and where had he gotten it? He hastily pushed these questions aside as his gaze followed Sebastian up the stairs. A moment later, a smirk curled Claude’s lips as he glanced over at Alaina, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes.

“What?” she asked. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

Claude jerked his chin upwards. “You want to go have a look before the cops get here?”

Alaina’s eyes flashed and she grinned suddenly, her fangs catching the light. Vampires loved chaos and all things macabre just as much as any demon. Neither species would pass up the chance to gawk and revel in the scene of something tragic or traumatic. “Do I ever!”

With a furtive glance around to be sure no one was watching them, the two of them sprinted toward the stairs and up, moving lightly and too swiftly for the human eye to follow. In mere seconds they were out of sight, disappeared up the staircase, leaving behind a corridor as empty as though they’d never been there at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Claude could smell it before he reached the top of the stairs: demon blood. It didn’t smell like human blood with its coppery tang. This was a far more distinctive odor, one that brought to mind fire and brimstone. Claude could think of no other way to describe it. His first thought was one of sudden and unexpected panic. Had Sebastian been attacked?

He moved faster and when he reached the top of the stairs he saw that there was indeed blood everywhere but thankfully it wasn’t Sebastian’s. The younger demon was standing off to the side just beyond the edge of the slowly coagulating blood pooling on the tiled floor, arms crossed over his chest and wearing an expression of deep thoughtfulness. His burgundy eyes were fixed on the source of the mess.

Claude acknowledged the rush of relief that washed over him before turning his attention to the corpse on the floor. It was a young man, or rather a young demon judging by the scent of his blood, clad simply in jeans and a black t-shirt. He was lying halfway on his back, an awkward position with his shoulders flat against the floor and his hips and legs turned to the side as if he’d twisted while in the process of falling. The youngster’s features were pleasant but unremarkable, with sandy blonde hair and blue-green eyes that were still open, staring upward at the ceiling sightlessly. Blood was still seeping from a number of stab wounds in his chest. Claude’s nose wrinkled a bit as he studied the injuries; they looked deep, done by someone capable of great strength. Moreover, there was something the tiniest bit strange about them. The skin around the punctures, what Claude could see of it anyway, appeared to be singed slightly, as though burned for a very brief period of time. Probably long enough for the blade to enter the flesh and be pulled out again but not long enough for the wounds themselves to be cauterized. Claude had seen wounds like these before and knew there was only one type of weapon that could have made them.

This wasn’t some simple murder, then.

When he turned to say as much to Alaina as she caught up just behind him, a smooth voice he recognized instantly as Sebastian’s stopped him short. “You again!” Sebastian had suddenly appeared at his side, grabbing his elbow in a steely grip and shoving him away from the body, past the doorway of Hell’s Kitchen. Claude found himself flailing slightly in surprise, knocked off balance by the force Sebastian was using to push him along. Finally, a good twenty feet down the skyway corridor from the scene of the crime, Sebastian stopped and just as suddenly as he’d clamped onto Claude’s arm, he let go. “What are you doing here?” he hissed, eyes flashing.

Claude found his balance quickly and took in Sebastian’s expression of annoyance with an arched brow. “This is a public establishment, is it not?”

Sebastian bared his extended fangs at Claude in a clear threat. “I keep a close eye on my patron base and I’ve never seen you around here before last night. Then suddenly a demon is dead on my doorstep. Would you care to explain to me why I should believe this is merely a coincidence?”

Claude felt his brow hitch a little higher up his forehead at Sebastian’s words. It was impossible to miss the hard angry edge in his voice or the thinly veiled accusation that had just been thrown down at his feet. He met Sebastian’s gaze evenly. “Because I had nothing to do with this. You’re awfully quick to accuse someone you don’t even know of murder.”

Sebastian snorted in a manner completely at odds with his beauty. “Exactly. I don’t know you.”

Claude smirked and let his voice drop lower. “That didn’t seem to matter last night.”

The sudden flush that appeared high on Sebastian’s fine cheekbones was gratifying. “Can we please not talk about that?”

Claude inched closer, his smirk widening. “Don’t want to think about the places your lapse in judgment might have led you?”

Sebastian glared at Claude, his eyes flashing briefly from their usual deep red to the swirling fuchsia shade that all demons shared, his pupils long and slitted, cat-like. “There are more pressing matters to think about right at this moment, wouldn’t you agree?” There was the slightest hint of a growl lacing his words.

Claude retreated, subtly taking back the space he’d given up a moment ago, schooling his features into unimpressed flatness. No sense in pushing the other demon too far. It was obvious that Sebastian was edgy and on the defensive, not that Claude could really blame him. He was certain he’d be reacting in a similar fashion were he in Sebastian’s position. “Alright, take it easy. No need to get all showy with me. I’ve got a few thousand years on you and I’m not that easy to intimidate.” He figured there was no harm in issuing a gentle reminder that he was the elder here.

Sebastian took the hint. His shoulders loosened and his head bowed just the tiniest bit, as he acknowledged Claude’s greater age in a small silent show of grudging respect. He looked up at Claude through thick black lashes, his eyes burning with ill-concealed frustration and scorn. Claude remained unruffled. It wasn’t the first time he’d been glared thus over the course of his existence. He got the distinct impression that Sebastian wasn’t used to paying homage to anyone and only did so when absolutely necessary. Which was interesting, considering Hell’s emphasis on rank and titles. Sebastian must be someone important then. Still, that wouldn’t stop him from putting anyone younger than he was in their place.

“Now,” Claude said. “Are you quite done having your fit?”

Sebastian’s cheeks flushed again but this time it was from a mix of anger and mortification. “Yes,” he murmured in a voice so low it would have been missed by any but supernatural ears.

“Good,” Claude said in a brighter tone. “Because you and I both know that what happened over there is no ordinary murder.”

“Besides the victim being a demon, you mean?” Sebastian asked, straightening and reaching up to run long fingers through his black hair.

“Yes, besides that,” Claude went on. “No human could have killed a demon like that. They are simply not strong or fast enough and no bladed weapon made in the mortal realm will kill one of our kind.”

“So you think another demon or supernatural did this?” Sebastian asked with a sigh. “I was thinking the same thing. I was afraid that it was only a matter of time before something of this nature happened here, what with my place being full of supernaturals. But I know most of the demons that frequent the Kitchen. You were a new face last night. Sometimes we get ones that just pass through…” He trailed off and shrugged a bit.

Claude nodded in understanding. “And when you saw me back again, you jumped to conclusions.” Sebastian’s eyes hardened a bit but he nodded once. Apparently he wasn’t used to being called out on his mistakes either, Claude noted. He continued in an unconcerned tone. “If you have further doubts, you may speak with your bartender, Grell. He can confirm that I was seated at the main bar having a drink and a chat with him at the time this occurred.”

Claude watched Sebastian carefully, seeing the way his jaw clenched and unclenched before he replied, “Fine. I will do as you suggest.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone in a black case. “I may want to speak with you later. I get the feeling you know something more about this and whatever you know, I need to know.” There was a strange inflection of something in his voice, almost like weariness. Claude thought that he sounded like nothing so much as an exhausted burned-out employee who was sorely in need of a vacation.

Claude grinned wolfishly. “Certainly. The name is Claude Faustus.” He waited until Sebastian had typed in his name before reciting his cell number. A tap of Sebastian’s thumb and Claude’s information was safely stored in his phone.

They both paused as the sound of sirens from the street beyond the nearby skyway entrance reached them. It seemed the authorities had arrived and there was no denying that Claude wanted little to do with them. It didn’t exactly follow with his desire to remain mostly hidden among humankind if he were to be suddenly wrapped up in a murder investigation merely by merit of being present on the scene. He had the opportunity to make himself scarce and he intended to take advantage of it. Besides, there was somewhere he needed to go. “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

There was only a small grunt in reply and Claude turned to see Sebastian gazing off toward the glass doors opening onto the street, looking wistful as though he wished he could join Claude. Of course, as owner of Hell’s Kitchen he had little choice but to stay and make himself available to the questioning authorities. Claude moved past him, giving his shoulder a brief sympathetic pat as he did so. “Have fun. I look forward to your summons later.”

There was no chance for Sebastian to reply before Claude was gone, letting his demonic speed carry him past the blood and the unfortunate corpse, past the entrance to Hell’s Kitchen, past a startled Alaina and her fellow employee. The skyway corridor ahead was empty as far as he could see and he sped past delis, salons and boutiques that were all closed up tightly for the night. He only slowed after having made a few turns, following the signs for McGladrey Plaza, where he found a ground level exit. Outside was Eighth Street and the chill of the winter night.

Claude joined the group of people standing on the street corner, waiting for the signal. They were bundled stylishly against the cold, their breath coming out on steamy clouds. He stood a few feet away from them, close enough to not be unusual but far enough that it was harder for him to catch the enticing whiff of their souls. He stared at the cars driving past unseeingly, wondering idly if vampires had a similar problem being amongst the human horde, trying to block out the beating of their hearts and the sound of blood rushing in their veins.

Damn, Claude thought. He would need to find a soul soon.

He crossed the street with the group when the light changed and then he kept walking another three blocks until he reached the light rail station. The city’s ever-growing network of overground trains reminded him unfailingly of London with its vast miles of public transit tracks both above and below ground. It was a small thing but one that brought back in a rush memories of his last contractor and the time he had spent in England’s capital during the era when the Underground was still new. Claude waited on the southbound platform for less than ten minutes before a train rolled in and he hopped on, swiping his transit card as he did so.

It was a fifteen minute ride to the Fairview Avenue station, where Claude disembarked. From the platform it was another mile’s walk further south into the old neighborhood known as Tangletown. He turned onto a quiet side street lined on both sides with two story clapboard houses built in the early part of the century, walking down a couple blocks until he reached number sixty. He paused at the cobbled front walk, gazing up at the nondescript house on its little knoll above the street. It looked like any of the other houses nearby, painted what he knew was a light shade of green though it appeared white in the darkness. The shutters on all the windows were painted black to match the front door. In summer, beds of flowers grew along the path and under the windows facing the street. The front light was dark but Claude could see a soft glow behind the heavy curtains pulled across the front window. He made his way up the walk and knocked lightly on the door.

A minute passed before he heard the turning of the deadbolt and the door opened slightly, revealing a face he hadn’t seen in a while. Large ice blue eyes peered out at him. “Stirling,” Claude greeted with a nod.

Suddenly the door was thrown open wide and Claude found himself being pulled into a firm embrace. “Claude Faustus! It’s been far too long. Come in, come in!”

Just as suddenly as he’d been smothered in the other’s arms, Claude was released and he reeled for a moment before stepping in over the threshold and quietly closing the door behind him. His host had already disappeared into the kitchen off to the right.

“You want anything, a beer or something?” Stirling called from somewhere just out of sight.

“No thanks,” Claude called back, slipping out of his checkered Vans. Stirling might be unconventional but he did like to keep a clean house.

“Suit yourself,” came the reply a moment before Stirling reappeared with a frosty bottle of some dark brew in hand. He waved a hand as he headed into the living room off the entryway’s opposite side. “Come on, let’s sit and talk.”

Claude trailed after Stirling into the room and gave it a quick once-over. Not much had changed since last time he’d been here. The furniture was still the same worn but comfortable brown leather couch and navy blue wingback chair, there were still bookshelves lining the walls full of dusty old tomes Stirling had collected during his travels. Artifacts from various ancient cultures littered every flat surface, Egyptian gods standing straight and proud beside peaceful Buddhas. Framed prints of some of the world’s most famous paintings covered the walls that weren’t blocked by bookcases.

Stirling settled on the couch, drawing his legs up underneath him while Claude sat in the wingback chair. “I’m glad to see you, Claude,” Stirling said with a genuine smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. They had always been alternately stunning and disturbing, their blue so light that they appeared white at a glance. “You’re looking well.”

Claude offered a small smile in return, a tiny curling of the corners of his lips. “Thanks. Things seem to be the same as ever around here.”

Stirling laughed lightly, a tinkling, pleasant sound. “Oh you know how we old vampires are. We don’t like a whole lot of change. Kind of like old demons.” He gave Claude a knowing look and took a drink of his beer.

Claude shrugged. “I won’t deny that. The world moves much faster these days than it ever used to.”

Stirling sighed and reached up to brush a stray lock of long silvery-white hair behind his ear. Despite the color of his hair Stirling had the appearance of a young man in his twenties, with sharp cheekbones, a defined jaw, porcelain skin and lovely full lips that Claude had admittedly kissed more than a few times in the past. “You speak the truth, my friend.” He paused and then fixed his gaze on Claude. “As much I wish you were here strictly for pleasure, I suspect that isn’t the case. What can I help you with?”

“Your suspicions would be correct,” Claude confirmed with an apologetic little smile. “I actually came to inquire about your recent stock.”

Stirling’s eyes lit up. He was the city’s premier dealer of black market weapons, the type that were lethal to supernaturals. His client base was comprised of both fellow supernaturals and humans; Stirling made no distinctions about who he did business with as long as they paid up front. Customers came to him fueled by paranoia or a desire for revenge or even a type of personal holy crusade and Stirling gave them the means to fulfill their wishes or protect themselves. That was how Claude had met the centuries old vampire only a few weeks after he and Hannah had settled in this city: he’d gone in search of a cold iron blade to keep on hand just in case he ever had another run-in with a nasty fae. Stirling, of course, had had one in stock. Then for quite a while after the transaction, their dealings had run beyond business and into a far more personal space.

“What are you looking for this time?” the vampire asked with obvious interest.

“Nothing for myself,” Claude replied, shaking his head and holding up a hand to forestall any questions Stirling might ask. “I need to know if you recently sold a seraph blade and if so, to whom.”

Stirling arched a thin white brow. “What makes you think I even had one? You know how rare seraph blades are.” Seraph blades were weapons forged in Heaven, imbued with holy fire. They were the personal weapons of the angelic race and while the blades were fatal to angelkind if turned back on them, they were also just as deadly to demons. They would have been the ideal angel or demon exterminating weapon, except for the fact that demons couldn’t wield them without being burned by the holy fire. The only time seraph blades were ever seen in the mortal realm was when an angel had come on a mission of one sort or another and been killed and the blade pocketed by someone who could touch it and who wanted to make a hefty profit.

Claude gave Stirling a chiding look. “If anyone around here would have a seraph blade, it would be you.”

Stirling grinned. “You’re right about that.” He paused and his expression grew sly, a mischievous twinkle coming into his eyes. “But I think you should do something for me first before I tell you anything.”

Claude sighed in good-natured exasperation. He was well-acquainted with Stirling’s sneaky, playful moods. “What’s that?” he asked, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

“You should come over here and kiss me for old time’s sake.”

“Really, Stirling.”

The vampire shrugged innocently. “What? Can you blame me? We had some good times, Claude. Just humor me.”

Claude couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he pushed up from his chair. “Alright then. I suppose I can’t refuse. Not you anyway.” A moment later, he was leaning in over Stirling where he was seated on the couch, trapping the vampire there with arms planted on either side of him. Stirling sighed as their lips met, his eyes sliding closed. Claude kept the liplock light, letting it linger for a moment but when he pulled back to straighten up Stirling managed to surprise him by swiftly catching him by the front of his shirt, yanking him back. Stirling stretched up, deepening the kiss. Claude let him, allowing his mouth to move against the vampire’s until finally Stirling released his grip and sat back.

“I believe I am satisfied now,” he announced, eyes twinkling. “Though I must say, Claude that you lack the fire I remember so well.” Stirling laughed. “I sense that your passions lie elsewhere.”

“I can’t deny that.”

Stirling’s smile changed from playful to wistful. “Well, I never expected any sort of commitment, you know. Demons were meant to be with other demons, after all.”

Claude chose not to comment as he withdrew to his chair, though he heartily agreed with Stirling’s assessment. “So?” he asked as he settled into his seat once more. “What can you tell me?”

Stirling drained his beer and set the bottle aside before he spoke. When he did, all traces of playfulness had vanished from his voice and his tone had turned strictly businesslike. “I did have a seraph blade in stock recently, just one. One of my suppliers managed to get hold of one for me. It’s the first one I’ve had in a few years. As soon as I let the word leak that I had one, I had several potential buyers within twenty-four hours.”

Claude nodded thoughtfully. “Not surprising.”

“No, not at all,” Stirling agreed. “I was prepared to meet with them all and get into some lengthy negotiations. You know how these things are. I have to turn the best possible profit I can. But then someone made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Claude looked at Stirling intently. “What kind of an offer?”

Stirling cleared his throat. “An offer to the tune of somewhere around ten thousand, let’s just say.”

Claude’s features reflected surprise. “Ten thousand for a seraph blade?!” The weapons were indeed rare and extremely valuable but he’d never heard of one going for more than five.

“I know, that was my reaction as well,” Stirling confessed, shrugging. “But he paid upfront in cash and never gave me a name. I couldn’t say no to such a clean transaction.”

Claude leaned forward in his chair. “Had you ever seen this buyer before?”

Stirling shook his head, wisps of silver hair floating around his face. “No. He was a complete stranger. But he was old, I could smell it on him. Older than you, even.”

Claude’s fingers tightened where they gripped his knees. “So you’re saying he was a demon?”

Stirling nodded slowly. “Yes. But he’s not a regular. If he’s a local, he just moved here.” Claude didn’t think to question Stirling’s judgment; the vampire knew everyone there was to know in the local supernatural community. He made it a point to keep track of his customer base and everyone they knew, the same way that Sebastian had said that he kept a close watch on the flow of supernaturals that frequented Hell’s Kitchen.

Claude took a moment to process the information. All in all, the sale of a seraph blade itself wasn’t all that unusual but the fact that someone had paid so much for one was. On top of that, the fact that a demon had bought it made little sense. Full-blooded demons couldn’t touch the blades, after all, so had little use for them. That meant one thing: whoever this demon was, he wasn’t full-blooded. That narrowed the suspect pool considerably but raised other questions like why would a demon kill one of their own in this manner?

Stirling was eyeing Claude with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. “What happened, Claude? Something happened, didn’t it?”

Claude’s gaze flicked back to the arms dealer. “A demon was murdered just outside Hell’s Kitchen a couple hours ago.”

“And you think the seraph blade I sold was involved?”

“Yes. The wounds were singed-“

“-and only seraph blades have that effect,” Stirling finished with a sigh. He shook his head, a frown pulling at his lips. “You know I had no idea this would happen right?”

“I know,” Claude assured him softly.

Stirling was silent for a moment longer before glancing back at his companion. “Why does this matter to you anyway?”

It was a question Claude hadn’t thought of yet but as soon as he heard the words, he had to wonder at their relevance. Why did he care? It wasn’t like it was his job to police his brethren. Demons killed one another on a fairly regular basis. It was ingrained in their natures to fight amongst themselves. He didn’t know the one who had died, so he had no personal stake in the matter on that front. Perhaps it was simply because it was one way for him to ingratiate himself with Sebastian. But there was also something about the whole thing that struck him as strange, not the typical death that usually occurred when demons clashed.

“I’m not sure,” Claude answered honestly. “I just have a certain feeling about this…like there’s something else going on.”

“Something else besides a turf war or a personal vendetta, you mean?” Stirling arched a questioning brow.

“Yes. Why would anyone need a seraph blade for that? Something bigger is happening.”

Stirling sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, Claude, you always did have good instincts. If anyone could figure out what this game is, it’s you.”

Claude cracked a grin. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

Stirling smiled a genuine smile, one that lit up his blue eyes. “No, I mean it. And if you need any more help, you know where to find me.”

Claude nodded. “Thanks.” He was about to say something more when his phone began ringing from inside his jacket pocket. “Excuse me, I have to get this.” Stirling just nodded, unconcerned, as Claude drew out his phone and answered it. “Hello?”

“Claude?” It was Sebastian, his smooth voice with its hint of an accent unmistakable even through the tiny speaker.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.” Sebastian’s voice was full of authority and assuredness, the tone of someone who was used to being obeyed as though no one ever questioned or refused him. “Be back at the Kitchen as soon as possible. I’ll be there.”

Claude found himself bristling ever so slightly at his fellow demon’s tone. There had been a time when he had willingly taken orders but those days were long past. He itched to fire off a retort but figured over the phone wasn’t the time or place. Pushing his irritation aside, he replied, “Fine. I can be there within the hour.”

“Good,” Sebastian said briskly. Then there was a beep and Claude realized that he’d hung up.

“Asshole,” Claude muttered, hitting the END button on his phone before dropping the device back in his pocket.

Stirling was chuckling from his place on the couch. No doubt his sharp ears had heard every word of the brief conversation. “Sounds like a real winner, that one. One of your kind?” He leaned forward, eyes reflecting playfulness once more. “Is he perhaps the one who has caught your eye?”

Claude groaned, nodding. “He’s beautiful but it seems he comes with an attitude.”

Stirling laughed out loud. “He’s a demon. Would you expect any less?”

“No, not really,” Claude replied with a lopsided grin.

“It keeps things interesting,” Stirling said as he rose from the couch, a smile playing around his lips. “I daresay that’s why you grew bored with me. Not enough fighting to be stimulating.”

Claude rose as well and they headed for the front door. “All that aside, Stirling, it was good to see you.”

“And you as well,” the vampire said warmly, reaching out to squeeze Claude’s forearm affectionately. “Don’t forget what I said and don’t be such a stranger.”

“Thanks again.”

“Any time.” Stirling stretched up to plant a light kiss of farewell on Claude’s smooth cheek before opening the door for him. Claude stepped out into the chill of the night as they said their final goodbyes. Then he set off down the street, headed back the way he’d come.


	4. Chapter 4

The snow was falling heavier by the time Claude stepped back inside the skyway on Eighth Street. He could feel the layer of it that had accumulated in his black hair slowly melting as he continued along on his way to Hell’s Kitchen. He raised a hand to brush the worst of it away. Unlike humans, he didn’t have to worry about getting sick but he still didn’t like the sensation of the tiny trickles of water seeping along his scalp.

By the time he reached the restaurant’s entrance, it had taken him a full forty minutes to make it there from Tangletown. He’d had to wait a little longer for a northbound train this time. The spot just outside the entrance appeared vastly different than when he’d left earlier. The corpse was long gone, the floor scrubbed clean. There was no police tape or any other indication that anything foul had occurred there at all. Claude wondered if it was really such an open-and-closed matter for the police or if Sebastian had pulled some strings and made it all disappear. At any rate, all traces of the unfortunate demon who had met his end in the skyway corridor were completely gone.

As Claude turned to head down the stairs, he was momentarily startled when he came face to face with a man he’d never seen before. He hadn’t heard anyone approach but then perhaps he’d been too entrenched in his thoughts to notice. The man was tall, about six feet, and slender with dark black-brown hair swept back from his forehead in a severe style. He was dapper, dressed in a smart black suit, and handsome, a pair of black-framed rectangular glasses sitting lightly on his proud nose. Those unmistakable greenish-yellow eyes peered out at him appraisingly. Another reaper.

“My apologies for startling you,” the newcomer said in a voice colored with a crisp English accent. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am William T. Spears, the general manager of this establishment. Mr. Michaelis sent me to intercept you.” He was holding a black metal scissor gate open across the top of the stairs. That was when Claude noticed that all the lights marking the entrance to the restaurant were shut off.

“Okay.” Claude didn’t know what else to say in the face of this man’s formality. He had once been well versed in formal ways of speech but had largely moved past that with the turn of the millennium.

“Shall we? He’s waiting for you in his office.” Spears gestured toward the stairs.

Claude nodded. “Lead the way, then.”

Spears pulled the scissor gate shut across the entrance after Claude had crossed the threshold and then the two descended in silence. Claude couldn’t help but notice that the Kitchen was quieter than usual. There was no hum of voices chatting and no music. At the bottom of the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder and realized why. The main bar and dining area was empty of patrons; no doubt Sebastian had closed shop for the night early in light of the events upstairs. Only employees remained, obviously in the midst of cleaning and preforming other closing duties. He spotted Hannah wiping down tables and setting out fresh flatware in preparation for opening tomorrow.

“This way,” Spears said quietly and Claude drug his attention back to the reaper, following him past the host desk which was empty of Alaina or anyone else, and down the corridor to the narrow side hall that Claude had noted earlier. Spears turned down it, leading Claude past several doors which he assumed were storage closets to the one farthest down on the left. A small plate on the door read MR MICHAELIS and here Spears paused, raising a hand to knock.

A moment later, Sebastian’s voice came from somewhere on the other side, sounding weary. “Come in!”

Spears twisted the knob and the door swung open on silent hinges. He and Claude stepped through into Sebastian’s office.

The theme of Hell’s Kitchen had been carried over into its owner’s private space, albeit with some subtle differences. The walls were the same deep burgundy as they were throughout and a pair of black velvet armchairs sat facing a desk of polished cherry wood. Black and white photographs hung on the walls in simple black frames and a trestle bookcase in one corner held a collection of antique books. The floor here wasn’t tiled however but fine-grained hardwood, covered by a plush midnight blue rug underneath the chairs. The lighting was also considerably brighter, courtesy of a frosted white fixture overhead and what appeared to be a genuine Tiffany lamp on the desk’s corner, its shade an intricate design of swirling red, gold and purple hues.

Sebastian was seated on the far side of the desk in a leather chair, his elbows propped on its surface and his fingers laced together, wedged up underneath his chin. Papers were scattered across the desktop; Claude imagined that Sebastian hardly ever boasted a tidy clean work surface. Doubtless there was always something that needed to be done. The younger demon said nothing until Spears had politely excused himself and closed the door behind him on the way out.

“Please sit down,” he said quietly, extending a long finger to point at the chairs in front of the desk. Claude said nothing, seating himself in one of the chairs and settling in, crossing his left leg over his right and resting his hands in his lap. Silence reigned for another moment before Sebastian spoke.

“Thank you for coming back here as promptly as you did.”

Claude arched a brow sardonically. “Of course. However, I do believe that I already made it clear that I don’t take orders. We may be cut off from Hell and all our rankings in this realm but age still counts for something.”

Sebastian had the good grace to look apologetic. “I know. I’m sorry. It was never my intention to disrespect you.”

Claude let those words hang in the air for a long moment, tasting them and sizing them up. Judging by the look on Sebastian’s face, he seemed sincere enough. Perhaps he was simply having a harder time adjusting to life outside of Hell, despite the amount of planning and forethought he’d obviously put into it. Finally, Claude said, “Apology accepted.”

Sebastian looked relieved and sat back in his chair, reaching out to fiddle with the pen lying across his papers. Claude watched his elegant fingers, mesmerized by their movement. “Now. What can you tell me about what happened earlier?”

Claude thought for a moment, unsure where to start. Perhaps it was best to revisit the matter of the corpse first. He raised his golden eyes up to Sebastian’s gaze. “Did you get a look at the wounds on the body?”

Sebastian shook his head. “No, not really.”

“Well, I did,” Claude went on. “They were singed around the edges.”

“Singed?” Sebastian’s handsome features reflected puzzlement, his fine brows drawn together over his ruby eyes.

Claude sighed. “Have you ever heard of a seraph blade?”

Sebastian instantly appeared more alert, his fingers stilling in their restless movement. “Yes. They’re angelic weapons and will burn full-blooded demons if they touch one.”

“Correct. I’ve seen the types of wounds they make when turned on a demon and trust me when I say that our victim was killed with one.”

“So the attacker couldn’t have been a demon, then,” Sebastian said.

Claude held up a finger. “Not a full-blooded demon anyway. I paid a visit to an old friend of mine after I left here and it turns out that a seraph blade was recently sold on the underground market. A demon bought it. And paid a hefty price for it, nearly double the going rate.”

Sebastian looked suspicious. “Who is this friend of yours?”

“If you’re asking if he’s trustworthy, he is. I know him well and have no reason to doubt his assessment. Vampires have good noses, as accurate as ours.”

Sebastian held Claude’s gaze for a moment longer, as if trying to decide whether to push the issue or not. Then he sighed. “Alright. So a demon, but not a full-blooded one, bought a seraph blade off the underground market. Then he murders a fellow demon right outside my restaurant, which just happens to be a gathering place for supernaturals.”

“That’s not all,” Claude went on. “My friend informed me that this demon is an unknown party. He paid for the blade upfront, all in cash, and never gave a name. My friend doesn’t know him and believe me, he knows everyone around here. He also said that this demon is an old one…older than me.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And I’m rather old.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened slightly. “That explains how he can touch the blade. All the truly ancient demons aren’t full-blooded, you know.”

“I know,” Claude said wryly. “There aren’t many of them here among the mortals. Most of the Elders were in Hell when the gates were sealed. That narrows the suspect list considerably.” The Elders, also called the First Demons, were the oldest among their kind. They had once been angels, part of the heavenly host, who had been cast out from Heaven for following Lucifer or in rare cases, had voluntarily chosen to leave Heaven and join him. Every generation after them had been full-blooded demons, who had been born of the unions of Elders, knowing nothing but Hell and its ways. The Elders were unique among their brethren for they still retained traces of their original angelic nature; this allowed them to handle holy objects and heavenly weapons without being burned. Seraph blades would fall squarely into the latter category.

Sebastian tapped his lower lip with a fingertip, his gaze drifting down to the desktop. “Hmm. So it does.” There was a moment of silence during which Claude could virtually see the wheels turning inside Sebastian’s head. Then the younger demon glanced up, eyes boring into Claude with sudden intensity. “Do you have any idea which of the Elders stayed in this realm when the gates were sealed?”

Claude looked mildly surprised at the question. “No, not really,” he replied slowly. “What makes you think I would?”

Sebastian raised a slender shoulder in an elegant shrug. “You seem to know a lot about what’s going on. I wonder why that is?” There was a curious but cruel gleam in Sebastian’s eyes that Claude didn’t like one bit. He felt a bit like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“Are you insinuating once again that I was somehow involved in this…incident?” He couldn’t help the swell of sudden frustration that swamped him: he wasn’t accustomed to having his word doubted like this, particularly by someone several thousand years younger than he was. It seemed that Sebastian was nothing if not impertinent, despite his earlier claim of having intended no disrespect. Claude wondered once more who exactly Sebastian was in the overarching scheme of Hell’s hierarchy.

“No, not really,” Sebastian replied lightly, echoing Claude’s own words from a moment ago. “You have merely piqued my interest, is all. As you say, you’re the oldest demon around here. Doesn’t that mean you then know things a comparative youngster like me wouldn’t?” Sebastian cocked his head to the side in feigned innocence but it was clear to Claude that he was being mocked. He scowled.

“I have seen many things you could never dream of,” Claude snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. “And though I’ve lived a great deal longer than you, it’s not my job to keep track of the Elders.”

One corner of Sebastian’s mouth lifted in a delighted grin. “Ah, there. I’ve made your calm façade crack a bit,” he commented in a tone full of amusement. “Can’t stand being talked back to, can you?”

Claude realized that Sebastian had been intentionally provoking him, trying to see which buttons he could push and what sort of a reaction it would bring. His lip curled in distaste. How very typical of a demon to sound out his acquaintances before placing any sort of trust or confidence in them. The “youngster” was astute, Claude would give him that. “I detest it,” he hissed, letting Sebastian get a good look at his sharp fangs, now fully on display thanks to his annoyance. “And I have killed for less.”

Sebastian held up a placating hand. “Alright, point taken.” His burgundy eyes danced with mirth and something else Claude could only call excitement, as if being faced with the potential wrath of a demon more powerful than he was thrilling, exhilarating. Sebastian settled back in his chair a bit more, eyeing his companion appraisingly. “Can you blame me for testing you a bit?”

Claude sighed, letting his teeth return to normal as his irritation ebbed away. “Not particularly. I would have done the same in your position.”

“Please don’t take it personally,” Sebastian said his tone suddenly serious though the traces of a smile lingered on his lips. “I blame it on my upbringing.” Claude huffed and said nothing. Sebastian continued after a moment. “If you can forgive my insolence, I would very much appreciate your help in investigating this matter. Having your aid would be a great resource.” Claude figured that was as close as Sebastian would ever get to saying that there were simply certain things he didn’t know.

Claude thought about it. Already everything that had happened had proven to be a break from his typical routine, enjoyable despite the circumstances, and he had to admit that the chance to get to know Sebastian better was too good to pass up. But there was one thing nagging at him. “May I ask you something, Sebastian?”

“By all means.”

“Why do you feel the need to look into this? Are you just protecting your business interests or is there something more to it?”

Sebastian shifted in his chair a tad uneasily. Apparently he hadn’t been anticipating an inquiry of this type. A few long moments passed as he thought how best to reply and when he spoke it was obvious that he was choosing his words carefully. “I am indeed protecting my business interests. You know as well as I that murder is bad for business in general but I do not wish to see my supernatural patrons driven away because they suddenly no longer feel safe here. Besides that I want to be certain that this remains an isolated incident. I don’t like the idea of human authorities sniffing around anymore than they already have.”

Claude nodded as he listened; fair points all around but he still suspected there was more to it than Sebastian was letting on. Yet he hesitated to push any further. Ultimately Sebastian’s reasons were his own and none of Claude’s business. Perhaps he would reveal more in the future as they grew more comfortable with one another. Claude let Sebastian’s words hang in the air for a long moment, watching the younger demon carefully as he waited for Claude’s reply. Sebastian was very adept at covering up any anxiety he might be feeling and indeed he would appear to a human to be impossible to read. But Claude could see the tiniest hints of agitation leaking past the calm front: the tightening around the corners of his mouth, the minute clenching of his fingers around his pen. It seemed that Claude’s line of questioning had unsettled Sebastian. How interesting. What was he hiding?

Finally Claude shrugged. “Fair enough, Michaelis. I will make myself available to you if you need assistance in clearing up this matter.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly in relief. “Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

Claude held up a finger. “However, I don’t work for free.”

Sebastian groaned. “Of course not. What demon ever does?” He sighed. “What’s your price?”

Claude couldn’t help but grin a bit at the other demon’s put-upon manner. “You.”

Sebastian’s expression of indignant surprise was priceless. “Excuse me?!” he sputtered. “How dare you insinuate that I would stoop to such levels! Despite my recent regrettable behavior my body is not for sale. If that is your fee then I will work alone, thank you very much!” His eyes flashed dangerously and Claude saw sharp fangs catch the light. A flush borne of embarrassment and outrage had dusted Sebastian’s cheeks in a comely manner as his posture changed, his spine straightening and his chin lifting in that certain way which Claude had only ever seen done by those of high birth. That partially answered one of his lingering questions.

Sebastian was truly a sight to behold in that moment, dangerous and beautiful, but Claude couldn’t help his laughter at the instant and dramatic reaction he’d received. When Sebastian realized he was being laughed at, his features shifted to reflect shock which was rapidly replaced by utter irritation. His lips pulled into a full-on pout and Claude thought it rather endearing on his aristocratic features.

“I fail to see what is so humorous,” Sebastian said sourly.

Claude made an effort to rein in his mirth, pulling his hearty laughter back into deep chuckles. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I couldn’t resist testing you a bit just as you did me.” He paused and let out a sigh, taking the last of his laughter with it though a smile still remained on his lips. “It’s good to know you have standards.”

“Of course I have standards!” Sebastian burst out, leaning forward in his chair and slapping a palm down on his desktop. “My mother raised me to not bring shame to the family.” He stopped abruptly, as if suddenly realizing what exactly he was saying. Only nobles or those possessing titles of great worth would care about such things. As a rule, demons slept with whomever they wanted, as often as they wanted, heedless of any so-called societal expectations. Yet it was obvious from his reaction that Sebastian didn’t sleep around. More than ever Claude was aware of the fact that Sebastian was indeed withholding something regarding his identity. The younger demon cleared his throat and sat back, schooling his features into placid smoothness. “I’m sorry. It was rude of me to be so curt with you.”

Claude waved a hand nonchalantly. “Nonsense. It was rude of me to proposition you, jokingly or not. Forgive me.”

Sebastian huffed a soft laugh then. “Well it seems that we’re even, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say so.” Claude offered his fellow demon a winning smile before standing up. “I would take my leave now, unless you have any further questions for me?” Sebastian shook his head mutely, looking thoughtful. “Very well then,” Claude continued. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything more. Goodnight, Sebastian.” When no response was forthcoming, he moved away from his chair and headed for the door. He had just grasped the doorknob when Sebastian’s voice came from behind him, halting Claude’s steps.

“Actually there is one more thing, Claude.”

“Yes?” Claude asked without turning around.

There was a brief hesitation, so brief most would have missed it, before Sebastian asked softly, “Why did you return to Hell’s Kitchen a second night?” It was easy to hear the unsaid thoughts behind the seemingly simple inquiry: why had he come back when he’d never been seen there before the previous night? Perhaps Sebastian was searching for that final bit of reassurance that Claude truly wasn’t involved in whatever was going on, that he could truly be trusted.

Claude was as surprised by the question as by the tone of voice it was uttered in. He didn’t answer right away, mulling over how much he should say. Finally he decided that honesty was the best policy here. He might as well make Sebastian aware of his interest sooner than later. “To find you,” he said simply.

There was a silence which Claude could only call stunned. It seemed he’d succeeded in striking Sebastian speechless, which he suspected was quite the feat. The other demon seemed to always be ready with a quick reply, his silver tongue primed for conversation. This puzzled Claude. Did Sebastian not think himself attractive or alluring enough to spark such interest in others? Was the man blind when he looked in the mirror?

“Oh,” Sebastian said finally, faintly. “That never crossed my mind.”

There was an infinite number of things Claude could have said right then, most of them alluding to how ridiculously gorgeous he found his fellow demon or how he hadn’t been able to get him out of his thoughts. But he settled for saying, “Well it’s the truth so you can stop wondering and worrying now if I’ve played a part in the recent tragedy or not.”

“I suppose so.” Sebastian’s voice was still faint and held a note of bewilderment.

Claude turned the doorknob in his hand. “Goodnight, Sebastian,” he said again before slipping out of the office silently, headed for street level and home.

+++

The first thing Claude did when he arrived home was brew himself a strong cup of tea. He liked Earl Grey the best, loose leaf in a tin imported from the Whittard’s shop in Leicester Square in London. He drank tea when he had a lot on his mind, unlike coffee which always seemed to accompany his states of mental blankness. Once the tea had steeped he returned to his customary spot at the living room window and gazed out at the same view he’d taken in just that morning. The city was bathed in darkness now, awash in a sea of twinkling lights trying their best to hold back the blackness of the winter night. The power plant still steadily spewed smoke off to his right and steam still rose from the falls to his left.

Claude pondered the day’s events. It was unfortunate that a fellow demon had met his death in the manner that he had and at the hands of one of his brethren, no less. Claude wasn’t certain yet if it had been a stroke of bad luck or a fortuitous turn of events for him to have been present at Hell’s Kitchen at the time. Now he was seemingly entrenched in the whole matter, the strands of his previously quiet life increasingly interwoven with Sebastian’s. He didn’t so much mind that in itself, considering his interest in the other demon, but it was impossible to know what sort of dangers the near future would bring. He could only hope that working with the proprietor of Hell’s Kitchen would prove to ultimately be a good thing.

Claude headed off to bed as the clock struck midnight. Hannah wasn’t home yet and he vaguely wondered what she was doing. It wasn’t as if she was working late tonight seeing as how the restaurant had shut down early or that he had brought home a partner for the night and she felt the need to give them some privacy. He checked his phone but she hadn’t called or texted. Feeling a bit worried, Claude nonetheless went to bed and promptly fell asleep.

He dreamed for the first time in several years. They were troubled dreams, full of pain and disjointed images he couldn’t quite put together. There was no coherent plotline to them yet they felt foreboding anyway. A pool of blood slowly spreading across a white marble floor, a flurry of white feathers floating lazily down from above, turning gradually gray and then black as they drifted gently. There was bright blinding light, so much light. And a voice speaking from somewhere far off, a voice that seemed familiar somehow though he couldn’t quite make out the words. Claude couldn’t help but feel as though he had seen all these things before but he was unsure of where or when.

But by far the most dominating element of the dream was the pain, pure white-hot agony. It wasn’t just physical; Claude could feel it deep in his spirit, his heart if demons could be said to have one. It was the pain of someone who had lost everything dear to them, stripped suddenly and irrevocably of the life they had known, along with the beings they had cherished in it. It was the ache of someone who had been shunned by the one they had loved the most, set adrift in a cruel universe without compass or guide. It was the anguish of someone who believed themselves inferior, unworthy of anything resembling love. This was the feeling of life without forgiveness or absolution. It was suffering, so much suffering.

Claude awoke gasping after only being asleep for a couple of hours. He was surprised to find that he had soaked his sheets in sweat and there were the half-dried tracks of tears on his face. He raised a hand to scrub the residue away and groaned as a sharp pain shot down his left shoulder.

“Ouch, dammit,” he swore softly, gently rolling the offending joint and working the pain down to a dull throbbing ache. The discomfort in his shoulder usually came with his occasional dreams so it wasn’t entirely unusual but it was still highly unpleasant.

Claude sighed, feeling exhausted even though he had just been deep in slumber. Whenever he had dreams like this they made his nights a long and arduous journey through half-remembered torments mixed with glimpses of what later turned out to be the impending future. He wondered idly what these images in his dreamscape had meant though he supposed only time would reveal that. He could still feel the lingering echoes of that sharp, poignant sense of abandonment and rejection plucking at him. He tried to brush it aside, sighing as he closed his eyes again, praying that the rest of his sleep would be free of nightmares.


	5. Chapter 5

When Claude woke the next morning, it was clear and bright, all traces of the previous day’s cloudiness gone. The sunlight stung his eyes for the first few moments as he lay in bed, fighting off his grogginess. He could remember dreaming but he couldn’t quite recall exactly what the dreams had been about. His sleep had been broken and disjointed and he knew that his subconscious was to blame. He fought off the lingering sensation of uneasiness left over from his nightmares as he became steadily more coherent. Whatever he had been dreaming of was past and there was no sense in dwelling on it now.

He noticed how quiet the apartment was; beyond his own breathing there was no sign of any other life present. His sharp ears could pick up no sounds that would indicate that Hannah had returned while he’d been asleep. After a moment, he shifted over to grab his iPhone off the nightstand. The screen told him it was after ten o’clock. Claude flipped the covers back and slid out of bed, intent on investigating whether his companion had returned. As he stood he winced at the ache present in his left shoulder, faint but stubborn, almost as though he had slept on it wrong. He vaguely remembered waking in the middle of the night, breathless with pain. His brow furrowed as he moved toward the door, rubbing at his shoulder mindlessly.

When he stepped out into the hallway he saw that the door to Hannah’s room was still cracked open. It was just as it had been when he’d gone to bed hours earlier, completely undisturbed. Moving to the entryway, he saw only his own shoes sitting there. It appeared Hannah had never come home.

Claude bit his lip; he had to admit that he was worried by this realization. It wasn’t like Hannah to stay away like this and especially without calling or texting him so he wouldn’t fret. The only times she ever let this slide was when she knew he would be distracted with another companion for a night, as he had been with Alaina all too recently. She knew that he cared for her, even if he didn’t always show it, and was always loathe to make him worry about her. It was this fact that made Claude begin to fear that something foul had befallen her.

A quick glance at the print-out of Hannah’s work schedule hanging on the freezer door reminded him that she was scheduled for an opening shift that day, beginning at ten and ending at six. If she was safe, she should be at work right then. A small glimmer of hope appeared that she had merely spent the night with a co-worker and the fact that she had neglected to contact him was only an oversight or misunderstanding.

Claude turned suddenly and strode back to his room, perching on the edge of his mattress as he grabbed his phone. A few taps of his thumb later and he was calling Sebastian. It rang four times before the other demon picked up.

“Claude?” Sebastian’s tone was full of what could only be called cautious delight. Claude had to wonder at that; was Sebastian actually happy to hear from him? Had their exchange the previous night softened the younger demon’s demeanor a tiny bit? Claude was genuinely curious but he didn’t have time to ponder such things right now.

“Yes, Sebastian, I need to know if Hannah came into work this morning.”

There was a surprised pause as Sebastian apparently attempted to process Claude’s words. It seemed this was not the topic of conversation the younger demon had been anticipating. “What?”

“Did Hannah come into work today?” Claude was well aware that there was a hard edge to his voice and that he likely sounded demanding and rude but he wasn’t about to apologize. His concern for Hannah was mounting with every passing second.

“No, she hasn’t come in,” Sebastian answered after a moment. Claude supposed he was thinking back on the employees he’d seen so far that day. It had been rather apparent from the moment that they first met on the dance floor that Sebastian was intimately involved in the day to day functions of his restaurant and would likely know who was working and who wasn’t on any given day. “Which is unusual, now that I think about it. Hannah is rarely late.”

“Dammit,” Claude swore, his fist clenching against his thigh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What’s going on, Claude?” There was a note of concern now present in Sebastian’s smooth voice but whether it was for Hannah or Claude or both of them was impossible to tell.

“Hannah never came home last night,” Claude explained quickly as he stood up, beginning to pace the area alongside his bed. “She never called or messaged me to let me know she was going somewhere like she normally does. I’m beginning to think something happened to her.”

“I see.” Sebastian’s voice was a tad hesitant and there was something…odd in his voice which Claude wondered at very briefly. “I do hope that’s not the case.”

Claude sighed. “Me too. Listen, if she shows up will you let me know?”

“Of course,” Sebastian replied immediately. That strange inflection in his tone was still present, though much more subtle.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Claude paused, debating whether he should say anything else before finally adding, “Perhaps I’ll see you later, Sebastian.”

“Oh! Yes, perhaps,” Sebastian said with a slight sputter that made Claude grin briefly in spite of himself. It seemed that he had a small talent for upsetting the younger demon’s calm and collected façade, a talent that could prove very entertaining as time passed.

They said their goodbyes and Claude hurried to get dressed. He’d already made up his mind to go look for Hannah. If he could pick up her scent somewhere between home and the Kitchen he could track her movements, much as he had planned to do with Sebastian. Whether or not he actually found her trail, he had to do something. Just sitting around and waiting for a call or message from either Hannah or Sebastian was going to drive him crazy.

He pulled on the jeans he’d worn the previous day and pulled a clean black t-shirt over his head and headed for the entryway and his shoes, shoving his phone in his pocket and combing his fingers through his hair quickly. It was slightly sleep tousled but he couldn’t bring himself to care very much what he looked like right then. He used a touch of his inhuman speed to get his shoes and coat on and then he was leaving the apartment, swiftly locking the door behind him and shoving his keys in his jeans pocket.

The air outside the building was brisk and Claude’s breath billowed out in white clouds the moment he stepped out. The cold was an annoying chill that touched the tip of his nose but he remembered to look colder than he actually was as he passed a few humans on the sidewalk. He hunched into his coat and pulled the collar up higher, pushing his hands into his pockets. Even in the midst of something as important as searching for Hannah he couldn’t afford to let his cover down.

Claude walked quickly toward Hell’s Kitchen, tracing what he knew to be Hannah’s preferred route of travel, carefully scenting the air as he went. There was nothing familiar and nothing unusual, just the typical everyday scents of the city. Food, exhaust. A hint of the river where it still rushed over the falls. The swirling masses of humanity and all their souls, so different from one another and yet all the same on the most basic level. The air was thick with disillusionment and weariness and all sorts of petty hates. Claude had to wonder, as he had many times before, how it could be that humanity thought themselves so far above all other creatures when they were just as subject to the urges and instincts that ruled the animal kingdom and most other races. He thought that perhaps angels were the only exception to the rule but that was not always strictly true either. He’d known more than a few rather unhinged angels in his expansive lifetime.

Claude continued on, nearing the halfway point between home and the Kitchen. As he paused on a street corner to wait for the signal, he caught a whiff of a scent so familiar he recognized it immediately. The light sweet scent of cherry blossoms and ginger met his nose, so out of place in the heart of December; it was so strong for a moment that he could have sworn that Hannah was standing within arm’s reach. Then a gust of cold breeze blew down the corridor of the street, whistling between the tall buildings, sweeping the smell along with it. But it was enough to get Claude’s attention.

Hannah had been here or at least very close by. Claude drew in a deep breath, trying to find her scent again, desperate to know which direction it led and how old the trail was. He continued to stand there on the corner even as the light changed and the other pedestrians began crossing the street, flowing around him like water past a boulder. None of them so much as batted an eye at him; all types of people could be found downtown and someone just mindlessly taking up space on a street corner was likely the least strange.

Claude stood there through another full cycling of the light at the intersection, waiting for the air to bring him Hannah’s scent once again. The fact that he hadn’t caught so much as a whiff of it before now told him that she had never gotten any closer to their apartment; she had either doubled back the way she’d come or changed course for some reason or other.

Her scent didn’t come again on the moving air and Claude sighed in frustration. He finally crossed the street with the next signal change, winding his way through other pedestrians at a swift stride, his nose working the entire time. A block down the street, he scented her again and his steps slowed. On the corner of Ninth and La Salle he walked straight into a veritable cloud of Hannah’s warm perfume and he knew that this was the last place she had set foot in the direction of home.

The trail smelled as though it were lingering somewhere between being fresh and strong and old and fading. Claude thought back to the previous evening when he’d left Hell’s Kitchen. What time had it been? He couldn’t recall exactly but he was sure he’d headed home sometime between ten and eleven. He’d gone to bed at midnight and Hannah had still not come home yet. Now that it was well past ten in the morning, he figured the trail to be somewhere in the neighborhood of twelve hours old by now. The fact that it was still as potent as it was spoke to the very likely probability that Hannah had been either frightened or angry when whatever had happened had befallen her and Claude didn’t like that one bit. Only a distressed demon would leave a trail like this.

Claude spent the next hour walking all the nearby streets, canvassing the area around Hell’s Kitchen, trying to determine in which direction Hannah’s scent led. It should have been a relatively easy task for a demon to accomplish, particularly one as old as Claude. His nose was keen and his tracking skills sharp. But he found that these things were failing him now. The trail seemed to go in several directions at once and yet nowhere at all and Claude found himself confounded at the muddled mess drifting through the streets of downtown. Finally he stopped walking at the corner of Eleventh and Marquette. Walking in circles was going to get him nowhere, after all, and he’d already done so more than once by now.

Claude growled under his breath in frustration. The odd situation he’d encountered on the streets had done nothing to assuage his fears for Hannah; in fact, if anything, they’d only been heightened. He checked his phone. Still nothing from her and also nothing from Sebastian, indicating that she still hadn’t made an appearance at the Kitchen. Claude chewed his bottom lip, pondering his actions moving forward. It was obvious that he would be hard pressed to find Hannah by himself without a clear trail to follow and there was only one being in the city he trusted enough to call on for aid. He opened his contacts and scrolled through them until he found Stirling’s name. A tap of his thumb and he was calling the vampire.

He waited impatiently as the line rang, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The traffic signal had changed a few times by now and Claude decided suddenly that he felt conspicuous just standing there. He moved away and began walking south toward Orchestra Hall, his phone pressed to his ear. “Come on, Stirling, pick up,” he muttered, mindlessly following the flow of pedestrians. Just as he thought that certainly he would end up speaking to the voicemail, there was a click and Stirling answered.

“Claude? I can’t believe you’re calling!”

“Me either,” Claude groused grumpily.

Stirling let out a tinkling laugh. “What’s with the attitude?” His tone was teasing but in the next second he’d abruptly turned serious, as if realizing that Claude wasn’t calling just to chat. “What’s wrong?”

Claude sighed heavily. “Hannah is missing.”

“What?” Stirling sounded genuinely surprised and instantly concerned. He hadn’t gotten to know Hannah all that well after they’d come to the city as he’d been too busy getting to know Claude, but the two had liked one another well enough and gotten along just fine. Stirling knew that Hannah was Claude’s closest companion and meant a great deal to him. “Tell me what happened.”

“She never came home last night,” Claude explained. “She got off work early too. Hell’s Kitchen closed early after all that…unpleasantness yesterday.”

“Mm, yes I’m sure they did.” Stirling paused thoughtfully. “So…Hannah works at Hell’s Kitchen?”

“Yes, as a waitress.” Claude had forgotten that Stirling wouldn’t have known such a detail, seeing as how they hadn’t seen each other in quite a while before the previous day and Hannah’s employment was still fairly new.

“So she goes missing from the restaurant where just yesterday some poor youngling was stabbed to death?”

“Essentially, yes,” Claude confirmed. “But not exactly from the restaurant. She was on the way home.”

“How do you know that?”

“I went out looking for her this morning. I’m still out, actually. I picked up her scent halfway between the Kitchen and home. She never made it any further than that.”

Stirling was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “You know this isn’t likely just a coincidence.”

“I know,” Claude said gravely. “That’s why I’m worried. Sometimes she doesn’t come home after work but she always lets me know why and where she’s going. But this time…nothing.”

“So it’s probable that something undesirable has happened to her.” Stirling said the words solemnly, putting voice to the very concern that had Claude so on edge.

“The strangest thing,” Claude went on, “is that when I tried to follow her trail, I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t?” Judging by the tone of his voice, Claude could just picture Stirling’s face in his mind. His silver-white brows would be drawn together and he would likely be gnawing on his lower lip as he tried to puzzle out the situation.

“Her trail seemed to go everywhere and nowhere all at once.” Claude could think of no better way to describe it.

“That’s odd, to say the least.” Stirling hummed in thought. “This is most curious indeed. And I fear what it could mean for our local supernatural community.”

Claude realized immediately what the vampire was driving at, though he hadn’t actually thought about it before this moment. If Hannah’s disappearance was indeed connected to yesterday’s murder, then the beginnings of a pattern were emerging. Was the murder something other than a simple personal vendetta? Was the same force behind it also responsible for whisking Hannah away? Was someone or something hunting down the city’s demon population and exterminating them? If so, how long before they turned their attention to the rest of the supernaturals in residence? The thought of such a thing turned Claude’s gut to ice.

“Whatever is going on, it isn’t good,” he told Stirling.

“No it isn’t,” the vampire agreed. “I’ll start looking into this with all of my resources. We can’t afford to have anyone else die or disappear without a trace. I’m grateful that you brought this to my attention.”

“Of course.” Claude paused and then barreled ahead with the original reason he’d called. “Stirling, I actually called to ask you to look into finding Hannah. You’ve got the contacts and the network, you know people. I’m at a standstill here and I need your help.”

Stirling snorted. “Of course. You don’t need to even ask, love. Consider it done. I’ll get started right away.”

“You’ll let me know right away if you find something out?”

“Of course I will. My men will find her, I promise.”

Claude felt a rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Stirling.”

“It’s no trouble. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Claude said his goodbyes with Stirling and hung up, still feeling somewhat anxious but overall much calmer. He trusted Stirling and it was simple truth that the vampire did have all sorts of connections in the city. If someone somewhere knew something, Stirling would know soon enough. In the meantime, Claude decided he would head over to Hell’s Kitchen and talk with Alaina and Grell, see if they knew anything regarding Hannah’s whereabouts. He was close by and he felt as though he should keep doing what he could to find her, with or without Stirling’s help.

He knew that continuing to wander around the sidewalks of downtown was a pointless endeavor but he couldn’t help making one last circuit of the general area he had defined in his mind. It was roughly four blocks long and three wide, just to the east and north of the restaurant. At the edges of this area, Hannah’s scent began to fade at an alarming rate until within several steps it was completely gone. The sensation of suddenly going from having her sweet aroma filling his nose to not being able to pick up on it at all was admittedly unsettling to Claude; it hit far too close to home with his fears about what may have befallen her. It was as if she was already being erased, from the world and from his life.

That was an all too probable reality that Claude didn’t want to think about just yet. He pushed the nagging thought from his mind stubbornly and turned at the next alley, looping back around toward Hell’s Kitchen.

The warmth of the restaurant was a welcome change from the chill outside when Claude descended the stairs to the reception area. The place had just opened an hour previous and was still mostly empty; Claude could see more employees than customers milling about. The host desk was empty and unmanned for the moment but that didn’t deter Claude. He passed it and strode for the main dining room. Inside there were people seated at a handful of tables, mostly young hipster types. Claude ignored them as his gaze fell on the two individuals he had come to see. Grell was in his typical spot behind the bar, leaning forward on his elbows on the polished surface and twirling a white bar rag between slender fingers. His spill of long flaming red hair was like a curtain around his shoulders. He was engaged in conversation with Alaina, who was perched on the edge of a barstool on the opposite side from the Grell. The reaper was looking at her with an intense and engaged expression and Alaina was making broad sweeping gestures with her pale hands as she spoke. Claude wondered briefly what they were discussing and if it had anything to do with the events of the previous day. He approached them after only another moment’s hesitation, his strides brisk as he wound his way between tables toward the bar.

The reaper was the first to notice the demon as he drew closer. He turned and his lips immediately split into a wide and genuine grin. “Welcome back, handsome!” Grell trilled as he raised a finely manicured hand in greeting.

Claude nodded in return. “Grell.” Claude came to a halt beside the bar, just within arm’s reach of the two of them. He turned to look at the vampire nearest him, offering her a small smile, though he was well aware it didn’t reach his eyes behind his glasses. “Alaina. You’re just the two I wanted to see.”

Alaina returned his smile, cocking her head to the side coyly. “Oh? What can we do for you, Claude?”

“I just need to know if either of you happen to know anything about where Hannah might be,” Claude explained, getting straight to the matter at hand. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries or small talk. Mustering up a smile itself had been hard enough given his mood, no matter how flat it had been.

Grell’s brow furrowed, his bright eyes turning immediately troubled. “Did something happen?”

Claude paused, glancing from one to the other, trying to guage whether or not they were just fishing for information. Grell’s confusion seemed real enough though, and Alaina’s fine features had morphed to reflect concern only moments after the reaper had spoken. Finally, Claude murmured, “She never came home last night and I haven’t heard from her. She didn’t show up for her shift today either. I’m getting worried. If she said anything to either of you about where she might have been going last night after work or if she was meeting with someone, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me.”

There was a beat of silence before Alaina said, “Hannah’s not here? I thought it was her day off.”

Claude shook his head. “I’ve already confirmed with Sebastian that she was scheduled for this morning and she still hasn’t arrived.”

Alaina bit her lip at his words. “I take it she doesn’t normally just disappear like this?”

Claude shook his head. “No, never.” Hannah had always been nothing short of reliable.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you two live together,” Grell admitted, using his rag to wipe at a spot on the bar. “I would have had no idea.”

Claude’s brows raised minutely. “Does Hannah never mention it?”

Grell shook his head, his hair and glasses chain swaying gently. “No, she never has.”

“We have been companions for a long time,” Claude explained, though he was unsure as to why he felt the need to do so. “In this modern world, it served us well to be roommates and share living expenses. That’s all but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about what happens to her.”

Alaina nodded in understanding. “Of course. Vampires tend to do the same thing these days. It’s harder to hide a coven in this era, after all.” She paused and her eyes became momentarily distant as she thought back to the previous evening. “Last night was a normal night closing around here, even though it was early and the circumstances of the day were…unfortunate.” Her nose wrinkled briefly before she continued. “Hannah did all of her usual closing routine stuff and then she left. That was that. She didn’t say anything about heading somewhere special or meeting with someone.” Alaina’s gaze turned apologetic. “I’m afraid that’s not any help.”

Grell lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Sorry but don’t think I can add anything more useful. I saw Hannah even less than Alaina did last night.”

Claude sighed heavily. “That’s what I was afraid of. She didn’t inform me of anything out of the ordinary either. I’m just concerned that she’s in trouble.”

“And rightfully so in light of what happened around here,” Grell affirmed, back to twisting his rag between his slender fingers.

“Yes, I’m hoping that these two matters are unrelated,” Claude admitted regretfully. “But I don’t think that’s case.”

Alaina and Grell exchanged worried glances. Claude realized that Hannah had people here who cared for her, friends who wished for her safety and well-being. Despite being cut off from their home, life had been pretty good to them here in this city. Claude didn’t want that to change. He couldn’t deny that a large part of their current peaceful and quiet existence was thanks to Hannah’s efforts.

He would find her, even if he didn’t like what he found. He owed her that much.


End file.
